... " -- Hey, don't forget to pick something up for Ockland too, m'kay?" Huckleberry suddenly whispered, quickly breaking the uneasy silence as he gently nudged Guinevere's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll pick something up for /everyone/." She snapped in return, trying to keep her voice low while still entirely replying to her younger brother's reminder. It was disrespectful to speak while the names were being drawn, and Guinevere would've rather preferred to not draw any unnecessary attention towards herself during such an important event. The first name was drawn, and Guinevere couldn't help but hold her breath. Of course, Huckleberry wouldn't be old enough for the reaping until next year... But that burning worry didn't seem to wait until then. Just try and focus, Guin. Just try and focus on going to the market later. Maybe she should get a pie to split? The bakery probably had them fresh today. Ockie didn't like pie, but she could always get him something else, and Huckleberry would want a... "Guinevere Abel!" ...Wait, what? Guinevere felt herself tense at the sound of her own name. For a moment, it didn't even /feel/ like it was her own. Like she wasn't even here. Until Huckleberry nudged her shoulder. "...You should probably go up on the stage." He quietly whispered, looking up at her with a small smile. Guinevere could spot the anxiety in his eyes as clear as day, but she could also spot how much he was trying to hide it for her. "...At least you can show em who's boss out there, right Guin?" He continued, staring up at her expectantly. ... "Guin?" He nudged her again, this time harder, quickly startling her back into reality. "...Yeah." Once the shock had worn off, Guinevere finally looked back down at him, forcing a smile to try and reassure him. Of course, maybe /Huckleberry/ wasn't the one who needed that reassurance the most right now... Forcing her way through the crowd, Guinevere tried not to make eye contact with anyone. It'd make it far more difficult for her to hold her smile, especially for so long. Besides, the capitol felines on stage seemed like they were getting rather impatient. Wordlessly, Guinevere took her place on the stage. And wordlessly, the crowd's cheers fell on unwilling ears. More and more names were called, but Guinevere couldn't even bring herself to listen. Some were familiar, some weren't. What did it even matter? She should be /happy/ right now. This was an /honor/. So why did she feel so /scared/? ...Scared? No, she couldn't be scared. Not of this, not of anything. Huckleberry was right. She /could/ show them who was boss, out there in the arena. She /had/ to. ...As long as she held back her tears a little longer. And before Guinevere even knew it, she was with her fellow tributes, boarding the train there. And before she even knew it... ...The door closed behind her. ...
