Preface
I went into the forest for the first time when I was eight. On my mother's orders, Uncle Gale took me past the fence that protects my district and taught me how to fight, how to hunt, and how to use a bow and arrow, though I'm much better with knives. I felt uneasy about the whole experience.
My mother is extremely opposed to violence. That's why our T.V. is never on. The Capitol only televises previous games.
I heard my aunt was chosen to be in the games once. I didn't even know I had an aunt, so I suppose she didn't win. I wonder what she was like when she was alive. I wonder if she was like my mother, fair and wide eyed. I wonder, more than anything, if she would have been proud of me.
Chapter One
I wake up in the middle of the bed in a cold sweat, gulping the air in relief that I had only been dreaming a second ago. Taking the lumpy pillow from under my head, I cover my face, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before the day starts. I can't seem to shake the dream, though. I'd never dreamt of anything that horrific, before. Not psychologically, but possibly the most primal terror that exists. It was a chasing dream, a running dream, a pack of dogs on my heels, froth bubbling from their bared teeth. I didn't even flinch. I let them attack me, let my flesh be torn off in strips, didn't cry out. But I don't know why. I felt like I was protecting someone. No one else was there, though. Just one suicidal me.
I open my eyes under the pillow, observing its beige canvas surface. It has a few holes about the size of a dime or nickel, but I like this pillow. I've had it my entire life. It may be a tad simplistic of me, but in District 12, one gets used to it. Out of all the districts in the country of Panem, this one is the most neglected. The proof is everywhere. From the run down shops, to the electric fence that's on only two or three hours a day, and that's at a maximum. Not to mention all the people who can barely feed themselves. I see them every day. Their bodies show the obvious signs of hunger, sunken eyes, hollow cheek bones, and emaciated frames. I've wanted to help them, but can't I risk having my own family starve. What exactly could I do, anyway? Even the Capitol can't help them. It tears at me, but I walk past starving families every day, only to come home to just enough, never an excess.
Propping myself on a bony elbow, I look around the basement of a house my family lives in. With the light coming between the cracks in the blinds that cover the only window, I can see my mother still lying in the other bed, alone. Dad must have left to go hunt without me. My father, along with most of the other district 12 citizens, works in the coal mine from Monday to Saturday. Since he's working, I hunt without him. Sundays are different. We usually hunt together, along with my uncle occasionally. It's Reaping day, though, so he likely wanted to let me sleep in. I'll just have to meet him in the woods.
I shift over to the side of the bed and sit up farther. I should probably eat some breakfast, but I don't know if there was enough food from the previous night to feed both me and my mom. The ache of hunger is nothing foreign, and no worse than usual this morning. I stand up and quickly stretch out my back before going to the even smaller kitchen to check on the food. I can tell something's different when I see the fresh loaf of bread on the counter. I can never resist fresh baked bread from the bakery, and tear a few chunks off at a time, letting my desire get away from me. It takes me a few minutes before I realize that my mom has to eat too. I set what's left of the loaf down, and go back into the main room to get dressed. I quickly slip on a comfy pair of pants and a soft tunic before pulling on my worn leather boots. There's nothing like preparing for a hunt. I always get that tingling feeling of fright and excitement that I got my first time in the woods. My hand automatically goes to the small scar on my jaw. That first time I was out, I was looking around so much for danger that I missed the rock right in front of me, and tripped. Uncle Gale says that that was his shortest hunting trip ever, because he had to immediately take me back to my mother for stitches and what was left of our antiseptic.
Before I walk out the front door, I pause and look at myself in the cracked full body mirror next to the closet. My long black hair hung like a curtain around my olive tinted face, and my watery blue eyes stuck out. In the Seam, people usually have olive toned skin, black hair, and grey eyes. I get my eyes from my mother, who has a merchant child's look; long, golden hair, porcelain complexion, and blue eyes. Though her mom lived in the Seam, too, she was once a merchant's child. The reason my grandmother decided to move to the Seam was because she fell in love with a miner. As a result she had to give up her apothecary shop, the family business. She still gives out medical aid when she can, and my mom always helps her.
My mother's currently in the process of trying to teach me hypothecary, along with my grandmother's help. They have this rather large book of plants that have medical uses. It's been passed down through the family, and added to by each member. The going's been rough, but I've faired well so far. Especially the section on edible plants. I don't know when I will need the medical plants, but every time I hunt I always look for the edible ones. It's always a joy to have some green in our meal.
Satisfied with what I see, I walk to the door and open it. I slip through soundlessly, but before I can close it, it her a hoarse croak form the corner.
"Airilee-," my mom had woken up. "Airilee, be careful. I'd hate it if anything happened to you."
I walked back inside and sat next to her on the bed. "Nothing ever happens to me mom. You know this. I'm more careful than anything."
"I know. I just worry about you. You are my only child after all. What were I to do without you?" Her eyes held sadness. Something that went deeper than just me.
"It's okay mom. I know you worry about me, but I worry about you too. You're always cooped up in this house studying things that I wouldn't think twice about. That can't be good for ones health." I softly rub her shoulder and looked sternly into her eyes. I want her to know that I'm not that same clumsy child that walked into the woods seven years ago. I've grown quite rapidly and haul a fairly large load of the family weight, despite the fact that I'm only 15.
"Sometimes the worst thing to forget is the one that you barely looked at in the first place." I was taken aback by what she said. My mother had never sounded so mature, and I couldn't help but be proud of her. Despite this, I kept my face in the same expression of worry as I stood up, and walked back to the door. I wouldn't let her win.
"There's bread in the kitchen," I said as I close the door. I felt horrible as soon as I closed the door. Why do I always have to let my temper get the best of me? It's always been one of my major faults. It's one of the rare things that my dad hates too. He can't stand it when I get angry, and kicks me out of the house till my temper wears off, which doesn't take long. The thing is, I always want to win, and if anyone even comes close to beating me, at anything, I lose it. I find it hard to not hit that person when I do.
I walk down the sidewalk soundlessly. The world seems frozen. The streets have a thin layer of coal dust. The buildings are coated with it, making their already grey surface blotchy and black, like a disease that's spread through the city. There is no wind to disturb the dust and litter sprawling the streets. No sound to draw your attention away from the city's dilapidated state. Everything here seems to be designed to kill my spirit. To transform me into a nothing that obeys all orders given. Yeah right.
I slowly make my way to the field that holds the closest hole in the fence. I make sure to walk right next to the black criss-crossed steel that's some twenty feet high to avoid eyes that may be watching but it's pointless. Not even the peacekeepers care if people hunt. They buy our food on certain days, and that's why my family can get away with hunting. A person in another district would be punished with death for what we do every day. How lucky for us, I think sarcastically.
As I come to the whole in the fence, I pause and listen. The tell tale buzz of electricity running through the fence isn't making an appearance today, so it's safe to go through. I drop to the floor and pull my self under, along with the bag that I keep game in. As I pop back up on the other side, I can see my dad waiting for me. In a tree no less. His red tunic sticks out among the green. Underneath that, he's wearing dark brown pants, and his old hunting boots. They're light yellow, but from the years of mining, they've turned dark brown. This is an odd outfit to wear to the woods. He sticks out like a sore thumb.
I walk closer to him, and he begins to climb down
"Hey, no! Let me climb up there. I've been dying to show you this trick I've been working on. I saw a tribute from a previous game doing it, and it was so cool."
"You were watching the games? How could you do that Airilee? Your mother hates them, and you know that." His face is set in anger, and I'm utterly confused.
"But, you wanted me-" his frown melts into a smile. "How could you do that to me? Gosh! Sometimes dad, you're really annoying.
"Hey, you're the one who falls for it."
"And then I get you back. Don't forget that."
"I know, I know. Come on lets take a walk."
"But not before I show you that trick,"
"Okay, show me." I make my way up his tree, and look around. My sights land on a branch from a nearby tree. I looks thick enough. I crouch down on the branch I'm currently on, and in one motion, I hurl myself over to the other one. My legs curl into the branch as I land, transferring the motion into the branch, before I stand up again. I look back and smile at my dad, who by now is on the ground. "Tell me that was amazing."
"That was so amazing, now lets go. Remember, we only have three hours before the reaping begins." At his orders I quickly climb down, and follow him deeper into the woods. After a minute, I realize we have already passed the log that hided our weapons. It doesn't matter. I can defend myself without them too.
My mind wanders as I follow my dad to no place in particular. What on Earth could he want to talk about. It's not like this is my first reaping. I know how this will play out. A girl and a boy between 12 and 18 years old will have their names called by the person who represents our district. Their families will cry in horror that their child is being sent to their death, and everyone will try to console them without success. I've seen it many times before. Our district children always lose, so there's no chance that they'll come back. They will then be thrown into a completely unknown arena to fight the children from the other eleven districts to the death. Last one standing wins, and they're usually the kids from district 1, 2, or 4. In those district, children train for the games. They don't care about what they do in the arena. They only want the wealth winning brings them. They make me sick.
I didn't realize my dad had stopped until I ran flat into his back.
"Sorry," I tell him as I rub my sore nose.
"No, it's okay." he replies.
"So, now that we're here, what do you want to talk about?" When he turns around, there are tears spilling from his eyes. "Are you-"
"They're going to call your name."
-x
Whoa, didn't see that one coming, did we Airilee? Poor girl. All caught up in some conspiracy.
This Update's Question- How many times have you read The Hunger Games?