The Mentors

Chapter One

Aurora Fairchild (D11)

I lay in the tallest tree that I have found so far in the Arena. I wonder how many tributes are left after I killed the District Twelve boy today. He was young and I was barely able to do it. At the very least, I made it quick. The Careers woulds have tortured him to the brink of insanity if they found him instead.

I sit up in my tree sniffing wildly. Smoke.

I climb down and find my pack, camouflaged near the stream. I don't need it much, since I have only crackers left and no weapons to catch food with. I quickly fill my canteen with water, fearful that if I leave the stream I won't find any more water for a while. I grab my pack and begin to walk briskly. The air is stifling and wild animals run by me suddenly. Fear begins to creep into my mind, can I actually outrun the Gamemakers' forest fire? I begin to jog, trying not to use up all of my energy. The crack of someone stepping on a twig startles me into an abrupt stop.

The girl from District 3 steps out of the bushes and grips a small dagger in her hand. I grab the closest thing to me, which ends up being a stray stick. I stare at it for a second, mentally face palming. "Don't come any closer."

She laughs cruelly and moves faster than I expected. I hit her on the head and dodge her dagger.

I know I'm in possibly the worst situation I could be in. My only chance is that she doesn't know the fire is moving ever closer. I begin to inch away and she laughs as she lunges after me.

A deer suddenly runs through us, running her over. I grab a small, sharp rock and stab her repeatedly with it. Her cannon booms and I hurriedly grab my pack. I can see the flames now and begin to run away. I suddenly stop, turning back around.

The girl from Three had a dagger, and I know all too well being weaponless in the Games is a death sentence. I run back and grab it from her hand trying not to look at her bloody body. A flaming cinder hits me right under my eye. I scream in pain and begin to run while my face burns. Burning, and burning, and burning . . .

I sit up, a scream escaping my lips. I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the persistent screams that are not in my control. The nightmares still haunt me, though I'm always searching for a way to make them cease.

I climb out of bed, sweat pouring down my face. I drag my hand across my forehead and stumble to the bathroom. The shower I take clears my mind and helps the aching in my back.

After I'm done, I walk back into my luxurious room and check my calendar. I sigh; the reaping day is upon the Districts again. I dry my hair, another luxury that the Capitol supplies Victors, and dress in a plain blue dress. It was mine before the Games; I try to wear it whenever I can. To remind me that I'm still the same person I was before, despite being scarred.

I slip on a pair of shoes that my mother wore for years before she passed them onto me. This was the outfit I wore when I was reaped. I haven't changed a bit, other than the burn marring my cheek. I look in the mirror and see cocoa skin, big brown eyes, curly brown hair, and a curvy figure. Same as ever.

I walk down the stairs slowly and skip breakfast, since I always feel nauseous at reapings. I walk through town and people eye me warily; even now they don't trust me. It's sad, they still think I'll kill them and know for a fact I won't bring their children home.

The district square is huge, though not large enough to hold District Eleven's immense population. There are pre-reapings.

The District is split into four zones. They draw a hundred kids' names from each zone and their the ones eligible to go into the Hunger Games. I was eighteen the first time I went to the Second Reaping and, sure enough, I was chosen that year.

I survey the square and notice that people are already starting to show up. I must have woken up later than I thought. Someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn to see this years escort. She must be a newbie, because she comes up to speak with me. Most know not to bother Victors. Her bubble gum pink bob and pickle green eyes make me dislike her immediately.

"Are you Aurora Fairchild?" she asks in her ridiculous Capitol accent. I nod and she grins. "You're so much cuter than I expected!"

"Thanks," I reply dryly, though I know not to. Capitolites usually don't pick up on sarcasm.

"You are welcome!" she squeals. "Your dress is . . . a little dated, though; can't you afford better?"

I grimace at her tone. "I can, of course, but I like this one. Wearing my old dresses remind me of the simpler days."

"Oh." She smiles, but walks away without another word.

I sit in the little, uncomfortable chair that they provide me. It's on the stage so I can see all the children's faces that are walking into the square. The twelve year old section is, thankfully, not as full as usual. Perhaps the little ones will be spared this year. My fellow victor, Locust, walks onto the stage and sits in the chair beside me.

He smiles grimly. "There's no other day like the reaping day."

"Which I am thankful for," I say, rolling my eyes at him.

Our mayor, Rye Temps, walks onto stage. He looks obese, as usual. He is so large that it's a miracle he can fit through doors anymore. The pig.

He introduces himself and begins the story of the Dark Days. Blah, blah, blah. I've heard that speech so many times, it hurts my ears. He announces Locust and I, we surprisingly garner a nice applause. He then introduces our escort and I finally get her name. Fluffy.

I laugh quietly, like so many in the crowd.

She commences to babble about how excited she is to be our escort and Locust has to throw a rock at her before she'll shut up and get on with the reaping. She goes to the girls' ball and I feel as nervous as I'm sure some of those kids who are eligible do. Over fifteen, over fifteen, over fifteen . . .

"Calliope McKay!" Fluffy squeals. A thirteen-year old begins to walk forward, tears pouring down her face, shaking like a leaf. She has dark skin and hair, but her eyes are a dazzling blue. She's so young, too young.

"I volunteer!" a girl yells from the crowd. Wait, what? Someone actually volunteered? This might be the first time, like, ever.

I thought she might be a sister, but she looks nothing like the little girl. As she gets closer, I start to recognize her.

Laurel Farley. She is one of the rich few that live in our district. Her father is a very . . . cautious man. He paid Locust to train her just in case she was reaped. I guess that backfired. I turn to look at her trainer, wondering if he knew of her intentions. I rear back in surprise when I see his hands shaking.

I turn away, trying to act as though I didn't see his trembling. Laurel's blonde hair is up in a messy ponytail and her eyes flash in defiance. It will be quickly put out.

"Excellent!" Fluffy squeals, which I think is the only noise she can make, though she looks unhappy. I brush it off, escorts are always a bit on the weird side.

She begins her walk to the boy's ball and I am just as nervous as before. "Zale McKay!"

I grimace at what I now understand to be a setup. The Capitol wanted a brother and sister in the Games. Zale is older to, coming from the back of the crowd. As he walks forward, I can see some resemblance in him and his sister's faces, but they don't look alike.

He does not have his sister's chocolate skin, he only looks very tan. The only resemblance are their eyes, a piercing blue. Laurel and Zale shake hands, Zale giving Laurel a grateful expression. She nods back in response. Locust and I stand, walking over to shake both tributes' hands. I know Locust wants to yell at Laurel right there, but he is able to restrain himself, and only glares at her fiercely. She can only look sheepish in return.

Locust turns to me after the reaping is deemed over and the newest tributes taken away. "Take care of them, 'Rora."

I know he doesn't mean them, he means her. "I'll do my best."

He nods and then walks away, quickly going in the direction of the Justice Building. He is already more of Laurel's mentor than I will ever be, even if he won't be in the Capitol this year.

I say goodbye to my mother with a quick conversation that only makes me depressed, before I begin the trek to the train. I pull myself onto the train and sit on one of the soft couches. W-Wait a second. Laurel volunteered for Zale's sister . . . meaning he'll be indebted to her in the arena.

Well, that's not good.