I paced back and forth like a caged animal, gnashing my teeth in impatience. I jerked my white hair roughly behind my ear as the flashbacks hit me, bringing me to my knees. The hot, clear liquid of my tears dripped slowly from my fingertips, staining my pants a darker shade of brown.
Peeking out from the bushes where I hid, I smirked. 'They'll never find me here'. We were playing "Hide and Seek" in the Meadow, the forbidden place, while our parents hunted for food. I nestled down into the brush, making myself comfortable for the long wait. Not one of my siblings or friends had yet found my hiding place in the only bush smack in the middle of the flat, open field. 'You'd think that my hair would give me away–' I thought to myself. But it didn't. Neither friend nor foe found me for a very long time. I spent those countless hours thinking, contemplating.
That is, until the Capitol came.
An aircraft of some sort stopped over the meadow and in a moment, my parents were gone; my siblings were gone. My family was gone.
That was the day I learned to trust one person and only one person: Myself. My fingers curled tightly around the handle of my dagger as I slid it into the top of my knee-high leather boots. Those boots and my battered black hunting gloves were all I had left of my family.
Carelessly, I tossed my nightgown to the side, donning a dark green tunic in its place, and then turning to look in the mirror. My dark clothes contrasted my pale complexion, white hair, pale green eyes, and nimble movements. Swift fingers danced through my hair, braiding it into a plait that reached all the way to my waist and ended tied with a piece of vine wrapping around it that held a flower in it. Larkspur. My sister's flower.
I quickly reached the town square and took my place among the other sixteen-year-olds. Each year people came and people went. Sometimes one of our tributes was victorious but – more often than not – two cannons fired for District Ten. Most of them were kids I never knew and never made an attempt to know. People are fickle beasts that can't be trusted, so I never bothered with them.
The crowd hushed as our escort, Cambrik Stintz, and our last living victor, Scott Flannery, came to the stage and started the "festival" with a speech. My mind wandered in boredom while Cambrik's nasally, clipped accent droned on about what an honor it was to be selected as a tribute to compete in the Hunger Games. I only focused again as he reached for the bowl full of girls' names and pulled out a piece of paper.
"And this girl's name is," he practically sang, opening the paper with disgusting joy, "Kygre Talluschia. Come on up, Kygre." No! Impossible! And yet, my name had been called and no caring person was willing to volunteer to save a poor orphan from certain death. Narrowing my eyes I walked onto the stage, trembling slightly. So be it. I can't live among them, so maybe it's for the best. At least I'll see my family again.
Cambrik reached into the boys' bowl and drew a name: Dranier Midew. I groaned inwardly, watching the shrimpy boy come to the stage from the 17-year-olds' holding pen. We shook hands, glaring openly at each other. Cambrik laughed at this. "Well, it seems the rivalry's begun already!" No, Cambrik, it hasn't. This kid won't last a day. With any luck, he'll trip and fall on his own sword before someone shoots him.
The people of District 10 sadly applauded as an overjoyed Cambrik and a sympathetic Scott Flannery escorted us to the town hall, our feet compelled to move only by the laser guns of the peacekeepers pointed at our backs.
We were allowed one visitor each as we sat in the hall on the hideous velvet cushions, but this visitor could talk to us both. Dranier's mother smothered him in hugs and kisses, then pleaded to me to take good care of her precious baby boy. I said nothing, staring at the ornate pattern of the rug beneath my feet. Someone walked into the room and stood before me, then cleared their throat nervously. I looked up and saw that it was my one and only friend, Lancer Guy. He smiled at me kindly, and then drew me into a tight hug, allowing me to break my composure for a moment, my tears soaking into his jacket. Taking my shoulders firmly in his grasp, he looked me square in the face, his eyes quite serious.
"Look at me, Kygre. No matter what, I'll always be rooting for you. You're my best friend and no matter what may come, you'll always be in my heart, even if death should part us." If? You mean when. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather bracelet, which he tied onto my wrist before I could reply. Looking at the clock, he sighed, then caught me up into another hug.
"I have to go now, but remember what I told you." Dumbfounded, I could hardly react when he pulled me into a swift kiss. That kiss was cut off oh-too-soon as the peacekeepers pulled us apart. Visitation time was over.
Cambrik and Scott came back into the hall, solemn and dignified (if that was possible), and escorted us to the waiting train. Cambrik practically dragged Dranier, but Scott held my arm in a loose grip that seemed to be an attempt to quiet my fears.
The doors closed and the train took off, bearing this year's captives to the Capitol for the real fun to begin.
I sat in a seat in the common room of the train and stared at the leather bracelet from Lancer. Odd, I thought, noticing an inscription in the leather. I was a delicate heart enveloping two letters – a jagged L and an ornate K. Clamping my hand to my check; I bit my lower lip in an attempt to fight my oncoming tears.
My first kiss and last. My first love and last. My life has finally truly begun and yet has already ended. By my dying breath, your name shall I whisper last. Strong to the end, your tears shall be the last. I shall be no more but you shall live on and I will live on in your heart until the day we meet again. Someday. These tears are my last for I am no longer who I was. I will fight to the end. I will fail, but not in vain for none shall have room to say that I didn't try. My journey will take me home – to my new home – among the stars.
A soft sigh escaping my breath and I allowed my tears to fall freely. My mentor crossed the room silently to stand behind me. The gentle weight of his hand on my shoulder brought me some comfort as I wept for all the meaning my life had that now would be lost.