IN MY DREAMS THERE'S ALWAYS A LION—golden, larger than life, and basically an embodiment of the word "magnificent."

Truly, the black-and-white picture of a lion in my dog-eared science textbook is a gross depiction of the majestic creature that so graciously appears in my dreams almost each night. We've been taught as little children that the lion is the savage king of the jungle – that it must be feared for its ferocity and insatiable hunger for its prey's blood. I have no doubt that my Lion isn't a tame one. He has this look in his eyes, the kind that makes you wonder if he was a witness to the world exploding into existence, and if he despaired as it spiraled down into the cesspit that I like to call "the present."

Yet for all his untamed glory there is no fear in my heart, just pure wonderment –reverence. If I had any control over my dreams, I would genuflect at his paws. It's the feeling that constantly blooms in my chest every time I set my eyes upon him. But as it stands, he isn't the one being honored in my dreams.

It's me.

Fourteen-year-old Edmund Leonidas – a lanky, pasty-faced illegal hunter from the 12th district of a god-forsaken country called Charn. Far into the west of District 12 is a great wood. This is where my Lion honors me every time we meet in my sleep.

The overwhelming yet completely humbling ritual is as follows: he lays a strong, heavy paw on my shoulder, recites at least five noble titles (that I seem to know by heart in my dream state, but can't seem to recall when I'm awake) that would cause even the pompous president of my country to blush , until a blurry person (or is it animal?) walks toward us to place a silver crown embellished with birch leaves atop my head. My Lion does the same to three other blurry figures on either side of me, two girls and one boy as far as I can tell, and every time he walks toward one of them, the landscape changes from the Great Western Wood to something equally majestic. Again, I forget what the exact scenery are when I'm awake, but if I think hard enough, I conjure images of a clear sky the color of my older brother Peter's eyes, a glistening turquoise sea, and an early morning sun that manages to be radiant and gentle to the sight at the same time.

Tonight is one of those nights when I'm being exalted for a battle I never fought, a sacrifice I never made, and a power I have no business to even contemplate. I sorely need to lay prostate before my great Lion, but yet again he insists on heaping praises upon my stubborn little head (I lost count of how many times Peter complained about how I never do as I'm told), so I sit on the omnipresent throne and wait for the blurry animal-like person holding my crown.

But as I lift my chin to try and make sense of his features, I am met with a face that doesn't—shouldn't—exist in my world of purity and utter magnificence. Just as I never truly see the others' faces in this plane of existence, hers is a face that I will never forget.

She looks at me, the hate contorting her features freezing the blood in my veins. I look to my Lion for salvation, only to find that I am no longer in the Great Western Wood, but the perilous wood west of District 12. She lifts her hunting knife, just as she had over a year ago, as we fought tooth and nail for the right over the beautiful white stag I'd trapped fair and square, and plunged it mercilessly into my stomach.

I see something I didn't see the first time this happened—Peter screaming out my name, but it was painfully slow and no sound came out of his mouth.

I bolt upright on my bed before the dying vision of myself could crumple to the ground.

"Happy Hunger Games, Ed," my older brother says dryly, his fingers making quick work of his worn shoelaces. He's already dressed smartly for the "single-most important event of every citizen's life."

"And may the odds..." I swallow, still shaken from the grotesque twist in my usually tranquil story. "Be ever in our favor."

Notes:

No beta, so all the errors you saw are mine. I've wanted to write this crossover story for as long as I can remember but never summoned the confidence to do so... until now. I'm still extremely apprehensive, but I'm also hopeful that someone out there will give this one a chance. Reviews are highly appreciated but not required. For any question/clarification/violent reaction please feel free to send me a personal message. Thank you all. To God be the glory now and for eternity!