For a change, going to put all my A/N at the end.

Also, The Hunger Games Trilogy isn't mine. Boo :(

Hope you enjoy this! :)

Kneading The Dough

Chapter One

The sun was steadily rising over the district, casting a soft orange glow over the buildings. Eventually, the sun had risen to such a height where it reflected off the bakery window in front of me, and I could see and image of myself staring back at me. I was tired, this was made evident by the heavy bags below my eyes. This meant it was just after six, and I had been up since four. This wasn't a rare occurance, certainly not. I was a baker's son, every other morning I was up at four with my father preparing the bread for the day. But I had not had much sleep the previous night, not with the ominous yearly event that loomed, waiting today for its cue to arrive and destroy the lives of many.

Today was Reaping Day. Today marked the beginning of the 74th Hunger Games. Today, a girl and a boy from each district would be chosen to vie for their lives, and to revel in the fame and glory that comes with winning the Games. Today, I have four slips of paper in that glass bowl, four slips of paper that Effie Trinket could so easily pick and change my life forever. Today, I could be sent to my death.

My family live in the richer end of District 12, so we're merchants. Sure, its not the Seam, but that doesn't mean we can afford everything we want. Everyone thinks that because my father's a baker, we can eat the cakes and biscuits we make and live on endless supplies of bread, pies and pastries. Honestly, the only time we ever eat anything freshly baked is if it is a really important day, for instance today, when we celebrate our luck at not being chosen as tribute. In fact, any money we do make goes straight back into the bakery, getting spent on flour and yeast, and paying for the ovens and equipment. Most of the time, we eat soup and stews, made with things my mother can get at the market. Sometimes, my father trades bread for meat or game with Gale Hawthorne. He has to hide this fact from my mother, who refers to anyone from The Seam as "trash", and blames them for the strife our district faces.

Generally, at The Reaping, it is often two Seam kids that are chosen, who are usually the first to die in the initial bloodbath, thus ending any chance at success some fools in our district might possess. Sometimes, a merchant kid gets chosen, and the hope rises ever so slightly, only to be squashed again when the tribute is killed off, seen as being "worthless trash from Twelve." The frequency of a Seam tribute is so high due to the need for tesserae. Compared to the capitol, every district is poor. Some, like Twelve, are poorer than others. We can take out tesserae, to gain a bit more food, but at a cost. For every tesserae we take, another slip of paper with our name on it is placed in the bowl.

When he was eighteen, my eldest brother Aidyn took out tesserae without anyone knowing. My father had been sick for a few weeks and was unfit to bake, and so business was slower than ever. Aidyn had to take over the kitchen. I was eleven at the time, and beginning to properly work at the bakery, early morning wakening and all that. I just wasn't strong enough for all the lifting and shoving and there wasn't enough food to help bulk me up. He wanted to make sure me and my other brother, Kade, were protected and fed if he were to be Reaped, and so thinking he was doing the right thing he took the tesserae. We knew nothing until the Peacekeeper made a point of it on Reaping Day, "Tesserae, Mellark? Didn't think a business such as yours would allow for such drastic measures! Well, good luck!" Aidyn was lucky not to be Reaped, but wasn't lucky enough to escape my mother's acidly painful words and even more painful punches. If I'm honest, it made me respect my brother more than I ever had before. He was looking out for us, something more than my mother ever did. My father did, but in his own way. He was there to offer a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, a caring face to look at. But he had no power against my mother, and I couldn't blame him.

I glance through the window at the clock on the wall in the bakery. It was nearly seven, and I'd been on a break for over an hour. I knew better than to stay where I was, even though I enjoyed this solace I found most mornings at this time, before my mother had risen. Soon though, she would be up and in the bakery, making sure we had enough to last the rest of the morning, as all shops had to be closed at one for the Reaping to occur at two. I dusted off my hands, which were covered in flour and soot. Everything in this district had a dusting of soot, in was inescapable and a comfort in some ways. I know I'm lucky to have been born into this family, even if I don't get on with my mother. I could be starving on a daily basis, having to hunt everyday to just to keep my family alive. Like Katniss.

Katniss Everdeen lives in the Seam. She's sixteen and has a younger sister. She has dark hair, grey eyes and olive skin. She wear her hair in a braid everyday, and has a brown hunter's jacket that belonged to her father, who died in a mine blast when we were eleven. She is in my year at school, and we have exercise, music and reading class together. She's quiet, but when she does speak out it's in a eloquent and soft tone. When she sings, she makes the birds stop to listen to her, like they for her father before her. She walks gracefully, moving like a swan. She scowls a lot, and doesn't interact with many people, whether through her choice or theirs. She races home from school with her sister, and doesn't come to school early.

She's been on the other side of the fence which cordons off our district from the wild, living a life I cannot fathom. She goes out most days with Gale Hawthorne, bringing home game and meat for her family, and trades with locals in the town and the Seam. She does this so she can protect her family, a job she took over when her father died. I thought that strange, wasn't that a job for her mother? I asked my father this one day. I knew they had known each other when they were younger, for she was a merchant's daughter as he a merchant's son. He told me that when someone loses their one true love, the illogical part of their mind that holds their feelings of love takes over, and clouds their judgement, making them making the wrong choices. I always wondered how he knew this, but only later did I discover that my father had once loved Mrs Everdeen, but she chose Katniss's father instead, because she fell in love with his singing voice. The same which Katniss now possesses.

The one I fell in love with, all those years ago.

What'd you think? Should I continue?

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