Cow Folk // D10 Train Thread

Mace Emberstatt flies into the train car. The hair at the nape of his neck is wet, a few droplets hanging from the point of his chin. He looks very different from his Games footage. His hair has thinned and his stomach sticks out over his belt. He falls into the seat beside me, crowding the plush couch with his knees.

Instinctively, I pull my body away, crowding into the corner as far away as possible. He doesn't look at me or Enzo, his mind is somewhere else. His eyes watching events only he can see.

I understand the feeling. I see his fingers tremble and familiarity pricks my heart.

I thought he might introduce himself, but I don't blame him. He's seen train load after train load of kids sent to their deaths. It's a burden I can't understand.

He's talking about nothing, asking for dinner in the early afternoon. I can't tear my gaze away from his hands. I stand up, crossing to the spread of pastries and grab the first one I see. It's a small cookie like thing dyed a pastel green. Like a cake made of grass.

I kneel in front of Mace, my knee pressing into the carpet. I hold the dessert out, looking into his grey eyes for something I know I won't get.

"Mayor Emberstatt, are you okay?"

"Cheers." Mace wears a forced smile as he raises a pink cookie in a toast to me across the train car. I stand, holding my little green one in both hands. I've never had one before and I have no idea how it would taste. However, Lorenzo is taking his fill of the entire sweets table and seems to be having the time of this life. How bad could one bite be?

I give Mayor Emberstatt a small weak smile, one to mirror his, and nibble on the edge of the dessert. It's shell breaks under my teeth and sugar floods over my tongue. It tastes almost nutty. I consider the rest of the cookie for a moment. The sheer amount of sugar in it tickles my teeth and I decide instead to hold on to it. I wonder how much it cost to make it. How many different ingredients from different districts it took to assemble such a delicacy. District Eleven obviously played a large part in it, but perhaps machinery from District Three as well. Coloring from District One, and more and than likely craftily put together by the hands of a voiceless avox. The people who slaved over this simple, single sweet aren't even here for me to thank.

Lorenzo has no qualms about the sources of the food. At the thought of ordering any he perks up, his lips coated in sugar, his fingers visibly sticky from his feast.

"Can I get- order- something spicy? Is that a thing, Temple?"

I turn to Lorenzo, the cookie in my hand starting to melt under the heat of my fingers, dyeing my skin pastel green.

"What? Spice?" I ask, brow furrowed. "I'm sure they have anything you could want."

I take another small bite of my green cookie, still surprised that it doesn't taste like grass or vegetables despite the color. It was an intriguing thing that I was curious enough to entertain now, but not get used to. There was nothing in this train car I could get used to- not the victors, not the food, and especially not Lorenzo.

I tried to push that thought aside.

My eye caught on the victor sitting off on his own. Ansgar Todd, Victor of the 74th. I was eleven when he won his games, the anxiety of my first year as a reapable citizen gluing my eyes to the screen. It had been a small victory when a District Ten tribute had won. Even then I remember him being quiet and odd. His little rat from the games sat on his shoulders, nuzzling him like a dog.

Mr. Todd was by far the most mysterious of the Victors. Mayor Emberstatt had been in the public spotlight for so long he was nearly an open book. Ansgar, however, was quiet and reclusive where Mace was charming. Emberstatt had his family, Todd had his rodent.

Honestly, I never thought I'd meet the rat.

I feel as if my time with these three forces of nature is short. That I need to ask my questions while I can, to absorb all the knowledge possible. I set my cookie down on a table, rubbing my fingers against my pants trying to get rid of the sugary residue.

"If it isn't too early to ask," I start, clearing my throat and trying to focus. I had a wealth of knowledge right before me, I couldn't let them slip through my fingers like this. I needed to learn what to do, and the sooner the better. "What should we do?"

I look over at Ansgar, his faithful rodent perched on his collarbone. Anything I want to ask, Tell me anything that could help.

I'm going to need all the help I can get.