Author's Note: I completely redid this whole chapter. I didn't like my first attempt so, viola! Please read and rate! :)
Although I'm not allowed to be doing a man's job, I do it just to show I can. My family's okay with it, because they know I can take care of myself. Marcus is hard on me though, telling me if I can complete a masculine task, then I shouldn't still be treated as a girl. I could care less how people see me, but I still like to look like a girl.
The Peacekeepers make it clear that only men are allowed to use axes for chopping wood. But seriously? What can grubby, drunk guys do to me? Plus, my brothers and I have been chopping wood since we could walk, it's not like we're completely useless. Still, I have to pretend I help make paper though. Unfortunately, Marcus and Tate do get the credit for it, and I'm kind of behind-the-scenes, but I've gotten really good at it, lying and all.
For home, we have separate jobs when it comes to trees. I secretly get the wood, Marcus crafts it into furniture, and Tate, with his cunning words, sells it. There was a time when neither of them were allowed to venture through the forest. But after Dad worked his way up the social ladder, the Peacekeepers generally thought of him as a devoted supplier to the Capitol. Though, there's always a price. So we have to work twice as hard and get twice as much wood than everyone else. We've been doing it for years. Sometimes it's not that bad but lately we've been having trouble making the cut. If we were to fail, even once, there would be consequences.
I'm on my daily routine to bring back wood before breakfast. The sun is barely up and I already have a fair amount of wood. It's still kind of dark out so not many people will notice it's me. I take the time to practice throwing with my axe, one Dad gave me for my birthday one year.
Seeing a tree with part of its bark coming off, I grab the rough edge and yank the strip of bark off the tree. The bald spot becomes my next target. I walk several yards away and turn on my heel with my eyes closed. Whatever strength I can muster is thrust into my throw. After a satisfying sound of my axe making contact with the tree, I open my eyes. The cheek of the blade is almost completely embedded in the small light spot. Though, I'm not happy with it. Things would be easier if I was stronger the day I got this axe.
It was the winter I turned nine years old. Evening was nearing so I decided to bring some logs home for the fireplace. Following a tiny trail through the east side of the forest, I found a nice fir tree that I could easily send my father's axe straight through, even with my limited strength. Right when I was about to take the first swing, a voice startled me. I didn't know the brown-haired boy that stood before me. But I knew I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He asked if I knew only men were allowed to use axes. I knew very well girls were forbidden to but I was too afraid to answer the question. He closed the distance with his long legs, stopped, and said in a dark voice, "You shouldn't have come here."
His hands made their way around my neck faster than I could blink. Stunned, I dropped the axe and clawed at the fingers constricting my throat. The hatred in his golden eyes scared me. His grip around my neck too tight. I could feel my feet lift off the ground, my head start to pound, and tears pool in my eyes. He's going to kill me, I thought. I'm going to die here. It took all the power I had to say one word.
"Please," I begged. And right then, he dropped me. I hit the ground gasping as air scraped the inside of my air pipe, desperately trying to get oxygen to my lungs. It didn't take me long to notice an axe in my attacker's spine. My brother, Marcus, calmly walked toward me and picked up my axe.
"This was one of Dad's favorites," he said, inspecting it, almost oblivious to the fact I was slipping in and out of consciousness. "Good thing no blood got on it," he said with a smile.
I remember thinking two clear thoughts before passing out: one was how determined the golden-eyed boy was to end my life, and two, how easily it was for Marcus to end his. Sometimes it still gets to me, how callously he killed him, but I've accepted the fact that he did the right thing. That if he wasn't there, then I wouldn't be here, angrily hitting a tree.
"Someone will see that," says a voice, pointing to the mark my axe made.
I whip around, surprised I didn't hear anyone come up behind me.
"Well, not if I chop it down," I mutter.
Marcus unfolds his arms and gets off the tree he was leaning on.
"You still need to be careful," he says as he takes my axe out of the tree. "You always think you're free to do whatever you want."
"Oh, really? Because last time I checked, it's not that easy living with an older brother who won't shut up," I fire back.
"Not as bad as a younger brother who scams you out of your profits."
I laugh this time. "That's true. So, what brings you out here?"
He looks at me with an eyebrow raised. "You really don't know, huh?"
And then I realize.
In a few hours, two kids will be taken to the Capitol.
There's a good chance they won't make it back. But that doesn't stop Marcus from wanting to be one of them.