The crisp morning air held a few lonely flakes. Several landed on the familiar building, coating its outside surface with a crisp, white crust. As if it were a jam-filled pastry, the inside told a different story. It practically oozed with warmth and activity.

Despite the heat of the interior, the mere sight of the structure chilled Hazel to the bone. The District Seven train station had been transformed from a simple, utilitarian structure to a museum of some of her worst memories. The day she left with Silus and the day she returned with only his casket. They replayed on a loop in her mind, burning through her bloodstream, pressing like a hot iron against her heart.

That was the weird thing about grief. It was like a predator lurking in the corners of her mind, waiting to pounce. She never knew what memory, smell, or sight would awaken it, flooding her senses with a throbbing pain. Hazel fought against the sensations, pushing them down beneath a fragile veneer of neutrality.

The worn wood platform was bubbling with the sheer number of people. It was a startling clash of Capitol and District. Like fish and birds shoved into a single, sweltering pool. The space teemed with uneasy bodies. Neither side was particularly comfortable being so close to the other.

District citizens clung to the fringes, pressed against the chilled walls, while peacekeepers and Capitol elites claimed the near center. If the train station was a target, Hazel, Festus, Indira, and her family were trapped within its bullseye.

With a shattering hiss, the newly arrived train doors slid open, unleashing a tide of Capitol press. Cameras sparked to life, lenses pivoting, and centering her and her companions within their sights.

Hazel shifted uncomfortably in the heeled boots Indira insisted she wear. The matching charcoal dress pants and the flowing cream-colored top suddenly felt odd. To an unknowing outsider, she looked to belong to neither Capitol nor District. She was clearly not impoverished like her people but, at the same time, lacked the extravagance of the Capitol.

Her attire made guilt rise to the surface of her unsettled emotions. The worn, weary expressions of her people sent nausea curling within her stomach. Many were thinner, more bony, with purple-gray hollows around their eyes. Granted only a brief reprieve to attend the gathering, they would return to the mills and logging sites once she departed. Her people had always been hard workers, but seeing them like this now, it was clear the increased load was overwhelming them all.

Worst of all, Hazel was powerless to do anything. She couldn't even share in their misery. Not anymore. Now, she was caught somewhere between the world she knew and the one dragging her further into its clutches with every passing day.

"What I wouldn't give to go for a run right now." She breathed, watching the press wade through the crowd.

"We can't leave soon enough," Sable replied behind her.

Hazel traced the edges of her pink bandage with her thumb. Indira had wrapped it for her that morning, scolding her when she noticed the bruising and slight trace of blood. The woman's warm hand suddenly encircled hers. All the escort's anger from earlier had melted away. "Try not to look so nervous, dear. We haven't even left seven yet."

The press inched closer by the second. Their lenses fixated on her as if they could see beneath the façade she was desperately clinging to.

As Hazel searched the faces of her family members, it was clear she wasn't the only one dealing with skyrocketing anxiousness. They all were in various stages of readjusting their clothing or reconfiguring their body postures.

A beeline of peacekeepers stretched through the crowd as they loaded luggage into the waiting train. The vast majority belong to Indira. Her newly assigned squadron seemed less than enthused with the task.

"Could you have brought more, Indira?" Festus scoffed.

Indira replied with a fake innocent tone, "You think it would fit?"

"I think it is nice that you come so well prepared," Bellona commented while Festus rolled his eyes.

"Thank you. At least someone appreciates my efforts." Indira smiled widely at the peacekeeper, her deep red lips gliding upward, her eyes sparkling in the light of the train station. Bellona watched her for a moment, seemingly mesmerized, while a faint blush colored her skin.

Just then, the Capitol press finally broke out of the swarm. Caught within their ranks was a familiar man with dark, slicked-back hair and a professionally oiled mustache. Hazel recognized him immediately. Lucky Flickerman.

Festus patted her shoulder, murmuring into her ear, "All right, Seven. They are going to interview you. Should be quick and easy, nothing crazy, and then we'll head out."

He outstretched his arms in a theatrical way that would be absurd for anyone else. Hazel swallowed down the knot trapped in her throat as she steeled herself.

"Miss Hazel Marlowe. It's been much too long." It hadn't been.

Hazel smiled as best as she could, "Good morning, Lucky. It is nice to see you again." It absolutely wasn't.

Indira and Festus moved to either side of her, a protective wall as Lucky pulled a microphone to his mouth, seemingly out of thin air.

His wide, toothy grin stayed fixed as he turned to address the camera over his shoulder. "We are here live in District Seven with Hazel Marlowe, Victor of the 15th Hunger Games. Our newest champion is preparing to embark on her Victorious Tour. In fact, it appears she is just getting ready to board the train."

Lucky turned his sharp eyes toward her. His slow once-over drew the cameras' attention like a magnet. "Miss Hazel Marlowe, I must admit, you're looking remarkably recovered."

Hardly. Hazel squirmed. "I've retired the crutches. Let's just say I might just use them to warm my living room."

A faint ripple of laughter stirred the crowd. Lucky's eyes creased at the corners as his grin widened. "And how are you feeling this morning?"

"Honestly?" Hazel pressed into her bandage.

Lucky grinned, "Of course, ma'am."

Hazel sighed slightly louder than necessary, "I'm a little nervous, Lucky."

Lucky let out another chuckle tinged with a false good nature, "Our fierce axe-wielding Victor has a little stage fright, huh?"

She shrugged, "Not all of us are as brave as you, Mr. Flickerman." Hazel fought to keep her smile from melting into a wince, "I would rather have an axe in my hand than a microphone."

The press giggled around them. Indira's face was a calm mask while Festus smiled widely.

"Nonsense," Lucky replied with a wave of his hand. "I think we can all agree—you'll be a natural."

Behind her, Rowan muttered under his breath.

"I guess we will find out." Hazel conceded.

"Yes, we will." Lucky agreed. "Not to change the subject. But if you'll indulge me, I can't miss the opportunity to ask something we're all dying to know."

Her stomach twisted, "And what would that be, Mr. Flickerman?"

Lucky's smile widened, and she couldn't help but think he resembled those toothy bottom feeder fish Sage was always showing her pictures of and telling her stories about. "Why, about our beloved former Gamemaker, of course."

Indira moved closer, and she could tell that her family had ceased fidgeting. Actually, most of the people in the room had quieted or muted their movements and talking. Ears perked up, eyebrows raised, and Hazel bit down on her lip.

"Mr. Flickerman, that is absolutely a subject change."

"You caught me." Lucky straightened his shoulders, eyes glittering with self-amusement. "Surely you've heard the news of President Ravinstill's decision to step down?"

Hazel was somewhat caught off guard by the question. Nothing too crazy? Hazel shot a withering look at Festus, who shrugged, mouthing 'sorry.'

Why did it matter what she thought? The newscast replayed in her head. President Ravinstill's health had sharply declined, and his recovery was faltering. It was announced that he would stay in his position for an undisclosed number of months to allow for a new election, but he would ultimately step down from his position.

"Yes, I'm sure all of Panem did. All I can say is I wish President Ravinstill good health. She shifted on her feet, "So what does this have to do with Senator Snow?"

"Did you not hear the announcement?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Anxiety sparked through her like a swig of too-strong coffee, "What announcement?"

Lucky casted a glance at his snickering colleagues. "Adorable. His announcement that he will begin his presidential campaign immediately."

She felt her eyes grow in size, which appeared to entertain Lucky even more. Everyone in Panem knew Snow as highly motivated and likely wanted to become President one day, but she doubted anyone realized how soon that might occur.

"Senator Snow is nothing if he isn't ambitious. He isn't the youngest senator in Panem for nothing."

"Good, good. Now, what do you know about the other rumors circulating that Senator Snow's presidential campaign might overlap with your Victory Tour?"

She covered her surprise with a vague, rehearsed smile. Snow's cryptic voice was in her ear and his vague hints of seeing her in the near future became clearer.

"Apparently, I am not as up on current events as I should be." Lucky again smiled widely at her answer. "I can't speak to the Senator's plans. Though I, like most people, wouldn't object to seeing him more often."

Again Rowan's grumble met her ears followed rapidly by Oren's muffled scolding.

The press members bubbled as Lucky paused for a moment, letting her fester before he asked his next question, "And what would you think if he became the next President of Panem?"

Hazel sucked in a deep breath. What would such a world be like? Maybe it would improve. She swallowed hard, but then again, maybe it wouldn't. "I think Panem would never be the same." Her own words were like thick ash in her mouth.

"Sounds prophetic to me." Lucky's voice had grown serious tinged with delighted. The press members again convulsed and laughed while Hazel picked at her cuticles. Lucky seemed intent on asking her more questions, but she needed to beat him to the punch.

Forcing a charming adjacent smile across her lips she replied, "I'll leave the forecasting to the experts." Lucky's chest puffed while Hazel pressed on, "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I think we are going to get this tour on the road. I've already made us quite late."

Festus stepped forward, hand out toward the press. "Our Victor is right, and we do have a tight schedule. You all will have plenty of time for more questions on the tour."

This appeared to be a satisfactory answer, and the group backed away, but the cameras continued to roll. Lucky sent her a fleeting wink before turning back to his crew.

Hazel chewed on her lip as she turned back to her wide-eyed family. Fern reached for her first, taking Hazel's hands into her own. "Take care of yourself, darling." Bending forward, she kissed Hazel's cheek before pulling her into a quick embrace. "Remember what I said, safe and happy, hear me?"

"Love you, Mom," Hazel whispered into her hair. A few members of the press made soft sounds.

Oren approached her next; without a word, he pulled her into his arms. "Come home safe, my girl."

Hazel hugged him back as best she could with her arms beneath his, whispering, "Keep an eye on Ro."

Oren squeezed her harder for a moment as if he agreed before releasing her.

Sage was next. He seemed the most at ease of all her family. "Bring us something cool. District Twelve has some of the rarest butterflies. And Four as hermit crabs," he said excitedly.

Hazel ruffled his hair and gave him a quick smile, "If I see any butterflies or crabs, I promise to bring one home."

Sable groaned somewhere behind her.

Lily watched all the bustle with curiosity while Linden's gaze stayed fixed on the ground. She hugged each of them. "Maybe by the time I get back, your axes will be done, and I can show you the ropes." Hazel shot a look at Festus, "And maybe Festus too, so he can understand what we do around here."

Festus huffed something under his breath while Sable muttered something about paying good money to see such a feat.

Lily let out a light laugh while Linden watched her with a guarded expression.

"Maybe paint me something while I am gone?" Hazel asked her brother.

Linden nodded, "What do you want me to paint?"

"You're the artist." She tucked a stray hair behind his ear, shuddering as she thought of the last time she had done that with Silus, "I trust your judgment."

Linden agreed before wrapping her in a side hug.

Rowan stood back, arms crossed, as he took in the crowd practically steaming with disdain. His face was hard, bitter, and closed off. "I promise we will talk when I get back."

Rowan's face faltered a bit before he pulled her into an embrace of his own, "Be careful, sis."

She rested her cheek on his shoulder as she held onto him, "Why do I feel like I should be telling you the same?"

Rowan pulled away, "Don't worry."

"Don't give me a reason to," she said directly into his ear.

He said nothing but met her eyes as he backed away. She studied his face as she was led backward. He attempted a small smile as the rest of her family waved and backed away as she was led to the train. Her soul wanted nothing more than to stay.

"They'll be all right," Leo whispered in her ear as she entered the threshold. "I've assigned a couple of guards to check in on them, just in case."

"Thank you," she breathed as she settled into the velvety seats. The train stretched into a wide variety of cars, dining chambers, lounges, and private quarters for rest.

All around her, the low hum of the engines purred to life, and with a soft heave, they began their journey to District Twelve. The district was on the other side of the Capitol; it was a trip that, even with the Capitol's finest fastest train, would take nearly 24 hours.

"I'll show you to your room, dear." Indira led her to the car that contained the sleeping compartments. She reached for the golden-dusted handle of one of the many rooms, pulling it open with a sweeping gesture.

Inside was a private suite with a bed larger than she would have imagined, a small mushroom-colored loveseat, and a round oak table, paired with matching chairs. Large oval-shaped windows along the walls displayed the passing landscape.

"Here is where you'll stay, and I will be right across the hall."

"And my guards?" Hazel asked.

"In apartments on either side. You really couldn't be safer," Indira assured.

The hours slipped by in a haze as District Seven melted away. It all was a blur of pine trees and ridgelines transforming into the flattened plains of Panem's interior. Hazel ate a sparse meal with her companions, her mind elsewhere, occupied with the low hum of the train and the occasional attempt at conversation.

When the sun began to dip behind the flattened land they were traveling through, Hazel retreated to her private compartment. They must have been somewhere in the center of the country. The mountains and forests had faded away hours ago. Hazel sighed as she looked around. The closets were packed with clothing items Indira had insisted she would need, and her speeches were spread out on the table.

After she changed into a pair of long, soft pajamas, she settled on the bed, still watching the world whizz past her window. The sound of the engine chugging along and the swaying of the train car was relaxing, and she felt herself begin to fade into unconsciousness when there was a knock on the door.

Hazel sat up straight, "Come in."

Leo's grey eyes met hers as he peered through the doorway, "Have a minute?"

"For you? I've got more than one."

Leo entered and pulled the door shut behind him. His uniform was gone, replaced by black trousers and a copper-hued cotton shirt. He studied her room for a moment before settling into one of the chairs. "Are you ready for this?"

Hazel sighed, tugging at a loose pink thread along her palm. "I'm not sure it matters either way."

Leo nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets, "Maybe not."

"I do have a question for you," Hazel said.

Leo's head perked up, and he looked to be on edge as he waited for her to continue.

"Is the Senator really going to be on the tour?"

Leo let out a long breath, and his attention shifted to the darkened world flying by them, "Yes. Though his schedule is highly secretive."

Hazel allowed a small, humorless smile. "Naturally."

"Do you want him to be?" Leo had turned back to her, leaning forward in his chair.

Hazel chewed on her lip and filled her voice with as much conviction as she could muster, "Why wouldn't I?"

Leo's eye twitched, murmuring, "Right, sorry. I shouldn't have asked." His gaze broke away from hers, landing on his fidgeting hands.

"It's all right." Hazel squirmed, unease thrumming against her nerves. This was ground she didn't want to tread. Couldn't tread.

The silence stretched, heavy and almost suffocating, until Leo stood abruptly and crossed to the bed. "I want to give you something."

He dug into his pocket, withdrawing a slim black leather case.

"You've really done more than enough. Or do I need to bring up my tab again?" Hazel mumbled, looking at his outstretched hand.

"Marlowe, just take it."

Hazel reached forward and pulled the item from him. It was smooth but heavy, much denser than it appeared.

She removed the lid to reveal a black knife the size of her palm with a matching grip. An almost invisible engraving on the handle held the letters "LD." It had a curved blade that came to a drastic point that looked deadly.

"Why?" Hazel met his eyes.

"You can never be too careful." Leo's eyes didn't waver from hers, "And I thought it might give you some peace of mind if you felt less....vulnerable."

Hazel stared down at the weapon, watching the warm, muted light dance over its deadly blade. She could almost hear the sound of Caleb's knife embedding itself in the tree beside her head or see the blood-covered knife lying in the leaves of the arena's floor. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the sensations from her body.

"I know it's not Oliver," Leo breathed.

"It's not that." Hazel shifted, stammering slightly, "Knives and I... don't have the best history."

Leo's face softened, "I'll be the teacher this time." He pulled her hands into his and gently wrapped her fingers over the grip. "Knives can be deadlier than guns. Just remember, if you ever have to use it, make sure you have no other choice."

Hazel swallowed as she allowed him to position her fingers, gripping the knife harder.

"You know what they say about knife fights?"

Hazel shook her head, "The best thing to know is where the nearest hospital is." Leo replied.

"Your confidence in me is comforting."

"I trust you will be discerning." He tugged at her hand, running his fingers over hers, "Now make sure to grip it like this, ensure it's strong and your fingers won't slide. The last thing you want is someone to turn it back on you."

"Fool me once, right?" Hazel shuddered but attempted a smile. However, Caleb's dark eyes flashed through her mind.

Leo's hand settled on her shoulder. Hazel flinched at the contact, her eyes snapping to his.

"Not again," he said firmly. "Not while I'm around."

Leo's eyes flashed as a knock on the door startled them both, and he backed away. Sable swung the door open. "Figures you'd be in here. Move it. Briefing's about to start."

"Be right there." Leo called over his shoulder before turning back to Hazel, "Practice your grip and get used to its weight. We'll work on it more whenever we can."

Hazel arched a brow. "Since jogging and axe-throwing are apparently banned..."

"They damn well are," Sable interjected.

Leo shook his head, slipping past Sable into the hall. "See you in the morning, Marlowe."

"Goodnight," She called after the two of them.

Leo shot her one last glance before Sable shut the door between them.

With a deep sigh, she tucked the knife under her pillow next to the cassette, player and Grace's coin. Despite her inexperience with knives, she was grateful to have it. It was foreign in her hand, the weight bizarre and unbalanced. In a probably unhealthy way, it was comforting to have it so close.

Eventually, the movement of the train car lulled her into a peaceful sleep until golden rays of sunlight woke her the next morning. She awoke to Indira flittering around her room. Her escort assisted in dressing and preparing her in a soft moss green dress as well as the same golden earrings and bracelets from the Victor's parade. When Indira was not looking, Hazel tucked her new knife in her bag.

Outside, the coal-dusted plains of District Twelve whirled by. The train pulled into the station and outside of the press, a solitary man was waiting front and center on the platform. His smart suit and charismatic smile stood out against the grittiness of District Twelve. A sharp jaw, shark-like eyes, and a dark braid with blue streaks rested against his chest.

As the doors slid open with a faded hiss, he glided inside. His attention swept through the train car, raking over the various faces until they settled on Hazel.

A twisted grin split Augustus Trask's lips, and his brilliant white teeth seemed even brighter compared to the grayed-out landscape, "Welcome to District Twelve."