Mack Montresor

## Bio

*Mack Montresor (she/her). District Six Tribute. Twenty. Lizeth Selene.*

*Third boxcar, midnight train*

*Destination Bangor, Maine*

*I know every engineer on every train*

*All of their children, and all of their names*

*And every handout in every town*

*Every lock that ain’t locked, when no one’s around*

  Mack didn’t like to stay in one place for too long. It wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t smart, and, frankly, it just wasn’t habit. There’s no telling if her sense of adventure led her to freighthopping, or if that was something she picked up along the way, but either way, Mack needed the rush, the surge of adrenaline that came with living on the edge. The fringe. Of society, of the map, of anyone’s memory.

  As a kid, Mack grew up in a turbulent home. She doesn’t think about it much. It wasn’t important. Her life didn’t really start until she ran away. It was after the first Reaping she was eligible for. Her rabbit heart was racing, fleeing her chest, and she thought to herself I can’t live like this. If at any point, she could be plucked from her life, forced to fight for it, then she didn’t want to waste it anymore working at the scrap yard. She packed a bag and left that night.

  It was an easy enough thing to pull off. The trains stopped at designated depots in scheduled intervals to switch cargo and crew. You’d pick your mark, or you’d catch one on the fly, jumping into boxcars as trains pulled away from their stops or slowed at bends in the track. You’d fight for your claim if you had to, and then ride it to the next depot. All of Panem was connected that way. And even though she had no family, she too was connected, just like the railways, to everyone else living this life.

  There were scrimmages for territory or resources, sure, but there were also companions made along the way. People with whom Mack didn’t mind sharing. After all, they might fight internally, but they were a collective. A whole community of trainhoppers, small but mighty. They used an adaptation of pre-Dark Days hobo signs and signals to communicate, leaving behind information for the next traveler. Markings left carved onto fences of homes near the depots, scratched into the metal sides of the freights, painted on the baseboards of depot bathrooms. These let the freighthoppers know where was safe to stay, where to find food, who to avoid – all essential to survival. They also worked together to evade arrest, as the practice of freighthopping was illegal. Word of mouth and symbols denoted where to hide on trains, the best routes for escape. Even which doors were locked or unlocked.

  And for Mack, every door in the world felt unlocked. The trains from Six ran through every district, and Mack – who rode those trains – saw the country. Through the endless fields of Eleven and the towering industrial cities of Three, along the coast of Four and through the mountains of One. It was a harsh existence, but a free one. A brave one. An exciting one, above all.

  But Six collected blood samples, and Mack was still registered within the system there, so she’d return like an animal migrating home for the annual Reaping. When it was over, she’d bide her time retracing her old footsteps before catching the midnight train. Always looking ahead. On to the next place. Of course, it was too good to last. At the 135th Reaping Ceremony, Mack’s name was pulled, and she was stunned. Her first thought, strange as it was, was that she hadn’t been sure anyone actually remembered her there anymore. After almost ten years of Reapings and no tesserae, she’d lulled herself into a false sense of security. Surely, if she could survive the rail, she could survive a bougie-ass Capitolite pulling names out of a fishbowl.

  But now? Now Mack must board another train – this one luxurious, heading for the Capitol – to find out.

* Token: A Coin
* + brave, adventurous, independent, clever - harsh, isolated, distrusting, adrenaline-seeking

**PENNED BY: LENA**