"The Hunger Games," she repeated slowly, still trying to figure out what that meant, besides what she'd been told on arrival. Part of her thought perhaps she was still dreaming, perhaps she was still really asleep beside the Tramp, that this was all some type of odd and alarming nightmare that could be forgotten just as soon as the sun came up. That would explain all the strange things the humans were saying about hunger and games and tributes and such.

"Who is the victor? Would it be customary to congratulate him?"