”Promise me you’ll come back home.” were the last words his mother said to him before he was torn away from her and thrown on the train to the Capitol. It was the only thing keeping him sane as the snow fell around him. It seemed like the gamemakers decided to freeze the tributes to death for the Capitol’s entertainment this Hunger Games, given only blue cargos and thick jackets to survive in the harsh winter terrain.   Dodge has been able to survive throughout the excruciating weeks. He can’t even remember how long he’s been stuck here, eating scraps of food from animals that weren’t frozen over and surviving off unclean lake water.   Twelve tributes are dead, four of those being Dodge’s. It wasn’t like he enjoyed watching the life drain from their eyes, but he made a promise; he had to get out of here. All the fallen have tried attacking him first. It’s what he told himself to not feel a pit in his stomach when remembering his actions. It was self-defense. That’s the whole point of the games, right? Best one wins.   The Hunger Games weren’t about chance. It was about survival. And he’d do whatever it took to make sure he wasn’t sent back to district seven in a box. It’s that mindset that drove him to throw his axe at the District five boy that loomed over you, his gaze immediately snapping back to you on the ground once the boy had fallen backwards. A career.   A goddamn career. The career districts weren’t that far from his hate of the Capitol and President Snow. Three districts who’ve lived their whole lives surrounded by victors and trained to win the games when he had no such thing in comparison. It’s no surprise districts one, two, and four have the most amount of victors; they’re practically groomed for it.   And he remembers when your pretty face showed on his screen next to your tribute score. From district two with a score of ten. It’s honestly surprising to him that you go off running. He thought the careers would have a bit more gall. Guess you’re not so brave when you’re without your crew.