Chapter One
I jumped up, startled into consciousness by the obnoxious yowling outside the front door of our home here in District 12. Buttercup. Sighing, I get up and let the old fat cat in. I've heard stories of my mom almost drowning him once. At times like this, I wish she had. As I walk down the short hall back to my room, I peek into my brother Crow's bedroom. His blonde curls are a mess and he's mumbling in his sleep, but I can tell he's having a good dream because of the way his lips twitch into a smile every now and then. Quietly, I slip back into my own tiny bedroom and nestle down into my warm inviting bed. Closing my eyes, I surprisingly drift back to sleep.
"Faster, Come on! Keep going, Bella!" Izzi calls as we run through the dense forest, getting tripped up by fallen branches every few steps. My tiny dancer's feet carry me faster than most, but not as fast as Izzi's. The boy behind us isn't quite as fast, but his muscles are huge and rippling. I'm sure he could throw the trident this far...And my worst fears are confirmed as Izzi falls to the ground coughing up blood. Cee, Finnick Odair's only son, had hit her square in the stomach. I want to stop, to try to help her, but I know I can't. "It's all my fault," I whisper sadly, "all my-"
"FAULT" I scream as I wake up gasping. I look around gathering where I am and how I got here. I squint through the sunlight and realize that I'm in my room, that I'm okay. A few seconds later my parents burst through the door to my bedroom brandishing sharp-looking weapons. "What? What is it, Arabella?!" my mother exclaims, looking around frantically. I let out a giggle and their expressions turn to bewilderment as they lower their large weapons. "It was just a dream," I say, "I'm alright. Sorry to worry you." My dad gives a chuckle and sits at the end of my bed after waddling over. Even after twenty years, he still isn't used to his prosthetic leg. "It's alright, baby. Let's go get some breakfast, hm?" He holds out his arm and I take it. Together we walk down to the kitchen. Aromas of pancakes topped with blue berries, orange juice, freshly churned butter, and cinnamon bread hit my nose. Dad's parents used to own the only bakery in District 12. He's an excellent cook. I'm no good at baked goods. Especially bread. Mostly dinner meals. Stews, meats, you name it. After the rebellion, my parents made it so that hunting is legal in the districts. They tore down the electric fences and let citizens into the woods. Plutarch, our president, came up with the idea because of my mother's skills with a bow and arrow. You'd think I'd inherit some of them, but bows are much too heavy for me, with my tiny stature. I'm 16, almost 17, and stand at a mere 5'1", weighing only 104 pounds. My skill with weaponry is throwing knives. I can hit a mighty buck in the eye no problem. As I sit down to eat, a lock of dark brown hair falls into my eyes. My mom pulls my hair back into her signature braid. As I look into the mirror on the wall, a pair of icy blue eyes stares back at me. I smile at my dad, then the anthem starts playing on the old TV on the counter, and the Capitol seal appears.