SUMMARY: Sage wasn't like Katniss for she wasn't strong, nor was she like Prim for she wasn't precious. She wasn't anything special, unlike her two sisters, and yet, one day, when she was a little girl, she managed to befriend a Victory Tour tagalong.

Growing up, I had always felt jealousy for my sister Katniss. She was everything that I wished to be: dedicated, strong, willful, intuitive, and was especially close to our father. Even though I was the oldest, everyone relied and trusted Katniss more. As for me? I was just taking up space.

I couldn't do the things that Katniss could. I couldn't keep up with our father through the woods because I always stumble on my feet. I couldn't shoot an arrow right and never did accomplish such feat because I was a slow learner. I couldn't tell apart which herb and berry was which, and one time I got scolded for unintentionally harvesting nightlock.

The only thing I could do that wasn't quite worthless was help our mother clean the house, but that didn't satisfy me. I wanted to go beyond the fences and roam across the forest like Katniss and our father. They were always busy with what they do, so I ventured off on my own to find myself someone who could help me out.

Gale Hawthorne, I learned, was exceptionally experienced when it came to making snares. My desire of being useful was so strong at the time that I followed him around, demanding him that he would teach me, until he grew tired of me and complied. In duration of my lesson, he got to know Katniss well, thus abandoning me halfway.

I was so fed up at the time. My little ten-year-old rage wouldn't simmer, and I sought for silly vengeance by scattering my mediocre snares throughout the woods, or at least as much I could go for. I had hopes for capturing a plethora of game, a particular wish for one of them to be a fat rabbit. Unfortunately, my hopes were wasted for I did not catch a single animal, but rather a boy around my age.

Hearing the ropes snap tight at its capture, I popped out of the bush that I hid in and scrambled to my snare. The boy, I discovered, was hanging upside down, both of his ankles tied by the ropes that were strapped to a tree. I was bewildered by my catch, even more so when I saw two blue eyes glaring at me.

My first thought was that he was from town. Residents in the Seam all had black hair, olive skin, and gray eyes, so he must have wandered into this area for whatever reason. However, looking closely at him, I couldn't quite label him as a resident in town either; he seemed to glow in a way that anyone in District Twelve lacked. I always saw the people here dusty and dull; times, frankly, were often tough here in District Twelve.

My reverie was penetrated by a shrill, "Get me down, Twelve scum!"

I blinked, shocked by such an outburst. Obviously, I wasn't expecting such words and, being slow-minded as always, it took me a moment to register his words.

Twelve scum. Twelve scum. Hmm, what did he mean?

And then it clicked.

"You're from another district!" I exclaimed, pointing at him.

If I had been seven years older, I would find the deep scowl marring his face to be rather amusing. The boy thrashed around, his arms swinging violently, his claws trying to reach for me. I was immensely intimidated. "Of course I am, you stupid girl! Now get me down!"

I didn't take insults lightly as a ten-year-old, especially with Gale frequently bombarding me with such. My fears evaporated as I bared my teeth and picked up a stick that lied by my feet, waving it menacingly in his face. "Do not call me stupid, you ugly, dumb, horrible, stupid boy!" I growled.

His face fell into an interesting shade of red. "What did you say?"

"You're a stupid, stupid, stupid boy!"

Our verbal banter went on for about a few minutes, until the ropes couldn't hold onto the boy's weight any longer. The ropes snapped, dropping him to the ground as I backed away, watching him with wide eyes. For a moment, he stumbled onto his feet woozily, and when his blue eyes were pinned on me, his face immediately contorted into rage.

I screamed and made a run for it, knowing very well that the boy was hot on my heels.

I was never fast on my feet, that or my endurance was severely lacking, so it was no surprise to have him suddenly pouncing on my back. We rolled across the ground, trying to shove one another's face to the dirt while screeching out mean names. I was desperate to get him off of me, but he was, by far, stronger than I was.

Wrestling with this strange boy terrified me and it brought ice to my veins when I saw his broad grin. It was plain to see that he was enjoying himself, dominating the weakling and exemplifying his power, but I didn't want it to end in such a way. When I noticed another snare that I had set up before, I conjured the last of my strength to throw off the body into it.

Snap! The sound of my success.

"Gyaaah!" the boy cried, now dangling right side up. The ropes were awkwardly tied around his torso and over his right shoulder. "Aaah!"

I stared at him helplessly hanging in midair, my breaths coming in heavy pants. Before I could take the moment to relish in my victory, the ropes snapped again, dropping the boy. I broke into a fierce sprint back home.

Of course, he had to come jumping on me again, thus replaying our little brawl.

The boy and I then found ourselves extracted from our grasps. My father was holding me up, and I noticed Katniss staring at me in bewilderment. The boy was being held by a large man wearing a blue suit—it looked fancy. My father set me down onto my feet, and that was when I became aware of the bruises that littered all over my bare arms and legs. The boy had bruises on him too, but less so than me.

"Sage," my father said in a loud voice, "did you hear what I just said?"

"Huh?" I blinked. "Oh. No. Sorry."

The man wearing the blue suit scoffed softly.

My father sighed. "I asked you what you were doing in the woods. You know you're not supposed to be out there."

I was about to remark that he and Katniss went there all the time, but I kept my lips sealed, knowing that was supposed to be a secret. I looked over to the boy, who was giving me a nasty glare. I tried to return the glare, but my attention was back onto my father, who was speaking to me again.

"Sage, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, sir," I responded quickly. "I was…playing in the woods."

My father sighed again. "And quite roughly too," he quipped wearily, running his hand through his soot-filled hair. My eyes settled onto a patch of drying mud that clung onto my thigh, although I could feel my father's eyes appraising me disappointedly.

"And you, Cato?" the other man questioned. "What were you doing in the woods?"

The boy scowled. "I just wanted to see what it was like," he huffed, then slurred under his breath, "It's not like I had anything better to do."

"Just four more days, Cato, then we'll leave for District Eleven."

Cato just huffed again and crossed his arms, fixating his irate stare at his shoes.

While the men exchanged polite words of apologies, I felt a hand tug at my shirt. Turning around, I saw Katniss still looking at me as though I was a wonder. "Who's that?" she whispered, glancing at Cato.

I shrugged. "A boy from another District. I think around the Capitol or something."

"Like…District One?"

"Yeah. He's probably from there, I think."

"District Two," Cato suddenly announced. "I'm from District Two."

"Cato," the man spoke in an admonishing tone, "that's enough."

"Sage," my father began, "I want you to apologize to Cato."

"You too, Cato."

"What?" we both cried out simultaneously.

"She started it!" Cato insisted, thrusting his finger at me. "She was the one who set up those traps!"

I sputtered. "N-nuh uh!"

"Yeah huh!"

"Well, you were the one who kept calling me names!"

"You called me names too!"

"You started it!"

In the end, the two men forced out apologies from our lips, of course, neither one of us actually meaning it. When going our separate ways, Cato and I shot each other sneers and glares and pig-nosed faces, which my father and the blue-suited man caught us doing, so we had to go back apologizing again.