Disclaimer: this is not my work, Rue is the one that communicates through me to tell me what to write. she is the inspiration to the story. it is her story after all.
3-Nepeta Lejion
Prologue
Ever since the Dark Days, there have been annual Hunger Games where the capitol forces kids between 12 and 18 to fight to the death. This year is the 74th Games. It is Reaping day. Today, the escort for District 11 will come and draw the names for the Hunger Games Tributes.
In some districts, being a tribute is considered an honor. Here the word tribute is a nicer way of saying corpse.
My name is Rue Pulisha. I was a tribute and this is my story. It is important to know that I am only 12 years old, I have been killed by the District 1 boy. Katniss Everdeen is singing to me.
Her song is about a meadow, love, protection, sleep, and hope. I hope that she wins the games. It will help me rest in peace to know that she is still here to give the Gamemakers trouble and grief for the games that they run.
Katniss was so kind to me in the last three weeks. During the training days I followed her around. I felt safer with her around me.
Chapter 1
My mother always said that I was born singing. That I was born small and light, almost as if I was born to climb trees.
District 11 is the agriculture district. This is where I live. The orchard is where I was raised. I climb to the top each day during harvest to get the fruit.
I have five younger siblings. We hardly ever get enough food to fill our bellies. In fact I hardly ever get more than a few bites of food during each meal. I always give it away to my younger siblings so they can be healthy.
For years I have dreaded my 12 birthday. It is my first year, but because of the need for food around my home, I entered extra times for tesserae. For my first time I had my name put in nine times. I hope the odds are in my favor this year.
The other kids in my year at school are all different heights. Everyone is bigger than me though. I have always been the smallest. Kids say that it is because I am part bird, I just smile and ask then where are my wings. It gets them each time.
Today I must help with the harvest. Everyone does. It is harvest week in the orchards. In spite of the long hours, I love harvesting the orchard. Being in the trees makes me feel free in a way.
I feel as though no peacekeepers can reach me there. The best time of the harvest is when most of the harvest is in and the trees are more inviting. That is the only time that I slip up the trees when no one is looking.
Chapter 2
Reaping day is here. I am so nervous that I almost get sick. Will I be spared my first year?
"Rue. Come on. Get up, you need to dress for the Reaping." my mother speaks to me in a hushed tone.
It is her way of saying I need you to help me get everyone ready for this again. I get up and dress. while helping get the others ready, my mind wonders to the other possible tributes this year. Some are twice the size of me and three or four times as strong. They are the one that carry the harvest to the trucks every day. Each load is about seventy-five pounds. That is as heavy as I am.
Other kids are closer to my size, but I am always the littlest. Papa comes to check over very thing, and gives each of us kids a kiss on the top of our heads. He stops when he gets to me.
"Good luck, baby girl. This is gonna be a tough year." Papa is always straight forward with me and politics and everything else are the district. He knows I can handle it in a safe way.
We are corralled into the square in front of the Justice Building. I follow the other kids to the check in table. The Reaping is a really good way to keep tabs on the population growth. The others in my year at school look scared. I am scared too, but I decide not to let it show.
Cameras are every where. On the Justice Building, on buildings surrounding the Justice Building. It looks sort of like someone dropped a bunch of over grown nests onto the tops of these buildings.
I check in and go to the area marked off for my year. Others there give me small hopeful smiles. That is our greeting.
