Tansy Nightingale turned 12 on the 8th of May. It felt great to have a birthday on a Saturday. No school, no work, she could spend time with her parents and siblings, not a care in the world. Her father was the Keeper of the North Woodland in District 7. This meant that their house was built at the top of the tallest tree in the centre of the North Woodland, so he could keep an aye on the area, and keep citizens from sneaking into the forest after curfew. No one hunted during the day, everyone was busy working in these forests during the day, but at night when the nocturnal species came out unafraid, hoards of poachers used to sneak under the fence. Now, there was no fence. There were instead eight Keepers, with very large shotguns. Anyone with half a brain cell could work out that this was a better system than that silly old fence.

As a keeper, Thomas Nightingale was slightly better off than the rest of the district. His family wore tailored clothes, they had a house keeper, a nanny and a cook, but best of all, his children had no need to take out tesseraes. He had five children, Sparrow, now 21 and with a young son, Rook, of his own, Harbour, 15, a gangly, crippled young man, short of a few screws, then Tansy, his eldest daughter, and 8 year old twin girls, Taryn and Tamsin. His wife, Claudette, was a sickly woman. Many in the district gossiped that it was her bad breeding, she was an ex-slave, you see, that had caused Harbour to come down with such a limp when he was 11.

Unfortunately for Tansy, her birthday celebrations were to be short lived. The 9th, a Sunday, was the Reaping for the 72nd Hunger Games. Thomas especially slept fretfully. He now had two children in those ominous glass bowls. Tansy, barely more than a small child, and Harbour, barely able to walk. Tansy's birthday feast of roast venison and cake ended up in the cistern.

As upper-class citizens, the Nightingales were escorted to an observation box with the Mayor and the other Keepers families. Sparrow, wife Blaise and baby Rook joined them with the twins, Harbour and Tansy were forced into the holding pens. The usual speech commenced. The district escort, Rowan, and winners Blythe and Johanna, were on stage too.

As always, ladies first. The tailors girl, Taylor was drawn. She was tall, well fed, but not particularly strong, having spent most of her life doing needle work rather than hard labour. Thomas heaved a sigh of relief, his baby was safe, but he also felt a pang of guilt. Young Taylor had suited up his twins just last week. He had known her all her life.

He was less worried about the results of the boys' draw. There were more boys in district 7 than there were girls. Within the poorer families, if one member of the family wouldn't get enough to eat, it was usually the little girls. Men were of more use in the long run. The chances of Harbour being pulled were quite literally 3541:4. He sat back, quite relaxed.

"Harbour Nightingale!"

Thomas smiled, he knew his son would be safe. Poor Harry Lightgale or whatever his name was would surely be a fine choice, maybe even a winner. He watched as the crowds parted. He saw his own son being carried by two older boys onto the stage, where he collapsed entirely. And so did Thomas.

Thomas was completely oblivious to the piercing cry coming from the crowds of children.

"I volunteer! I VOLUNTEER!" it was unmistakeably the cry from a little girl. Little Tansy was running towards the stage, her arms flailing and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You wish to volunteer in place of Taylor, dear?" said Rowan.

"No, I wish to volunteer in place of Harbour!"

"We must have one male and one female, little one. You can only go in place of Taylor."

"Fine."