𝐭𝐰𝐨

                                    

                                          
Silence enveloped them as they made their way to the station. Both Calliope and Rye remained wordless, their minds grappling with the shock and dismay of being chosen as tributes bound for the Capitol.
Calliope fought back tears, determined not to give the peacekeepers any reason to silence her with a harsh command. Their earlier warning not to speak still resonated in her mind, urging her to maintain composure despite the turmoil raging within her.
As their cart came to a halt, the peacekeepers wasted no time in yanking Rye and Calliope from their seats and directing them toward the dingy cattle van. There was no way that the Capitol would put their tributes on the nice train.
Struggling to ascend the high steps of the van, Calliope found herself thwarted by the height. Sensing her difficulty, Rye intervened, hoisting her up onto the first step with a grunt of effort. Grateful for his assistance, Calliope mumbled a small thank-you before turning to reciprocate the gesture.
Just as Rye was about to join her, a peacekeeper's harsh voice cut through the air, "Hurry up!" With a forceful shove from the peacekeeper, Rye stumbled forward, his foot barely landing on the step-in time.
"Asshole." Calliope muttered under her breath as the peacekeeper shut the door behind them, the metallic clang resonating in the dimly lit cart.
Despite the cramped quarters and the overpowering scent of manure that permeated the air, Calliope composed herself quickly, her senses alert as she surveyed their surroundings. Inside the van, four other kids were present, their faces illuminated faintly by the feeble light filtering through the small window. Among them, Calliope's gaze zeroed in on a familiar face, recognition sparking in her eyes. 
Treech.
Back in District Seven, they shared a bond that ran deep. As friends, neighbors, and classmates, they were inseparable. Calliope trusted him enough to reveal the hidden beauty of a lake, a secret she cherished. Nights were spent sneaking out, their laughter echoing as they climbed trees and gazed at the star-studded sky. But their bond shattered when Calliope vanished without a word, leaving him behind.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, a silent connection sparking between them before Treech abruptly shifted his gaze away. He directed his attention towards the wall ahead, his expression inscrutable, seemingly intent on avoiding further eye contact with her.
Her gaze shifted to the girl sitting beside him. Lamina. She was crying, and a wave of memories flooding her mind. The last time they had met was at Lamina's twelfth birthday celebration, a day overshadowed by tears as the grim reality of the Hunger Games eligibility set in. Calliope had reassured her then, insisting that the odds of being reaped at such a young age were slim. Yet, three years later, here Lamina stood, reaped and bound for the arena, defying the hope they had once clung to.
Seated on the adjacent bench was a girl with fiery, cropped ginger hair. Her gaze, brimming with fury, bore into Calliope, and she couldn't blame her. Nobody wished to find themselves thrust into the merciless jaws of the Games.
Seated beside her was a boy, his youthful features belying his apparent age of no more than thirteen. He wore a hat perched atop his head, a sweater vest snugly wrapped around his frame, and a shirt beneath. Like the girl, his expression conveyed a sense of discontent, mirroring her own. Among the occupants of the cart, he was unmistakably the youngest.
"Um, hi." Calliope cautiously ventured, her voice a hesitant attempt to break the tense silence that hung over the group like a heavy shroud. "This cage... it's quite... um, delightful, isn't it?"
Rye's sharp gaze darted towards her, a silent warning conveyed through his eyes, urging her to hold her tongue and not provoke further tension.
"If you like the smell of shit." Retorted the girl with short ginger hair, eyeing Calliope skeptically.