Disclaimer :I do not own The Hunger Games, no copyright infringement intended.

Part One :The Tributes

Chapter One :Reaping Morning

They inched closer, closing in on their only target, evil smiles spreading across their faces. Their expressions, each ranging from malice to bloodlust, filled me with fear and dread.

Then I got a glimpse of their victim's face. Pale, drained of colour, ghastly cuts across her face, and on one end, red liquid trickling down her forehead. Blood. It was only a short, quick glimpse - like the way cameras flash and leave - but I didn't need any longer to know who that horribly pursued girl is. Her hair set in her usual side braid, it's a face I'd recognize anywhere, anytime.

In an instance I was on my feet, running, stretching, reaching - only to be blocked by a thick, clearly see-through wall. And as I shoved futilely, they sauntered towards her, eyes glinting in anticipation. Knives raised, spears poised and armed with deadly weapons, my vision blurred as they charged forward.

With her remanding strength, Katniss raised her bow.

The last thing I saw was Katniss' face, horrified yet determined; before I heard a blow…

And fell. With a groan, I opened my eyes, and looked around. There was enough light to see where I was. Curled up on the other side of my battered mattress, was Rory, my twelve-year-old brother, and Vick, my other brother. On the other end of the room, lay my mother, and Posy. My little sister cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. Beneath my ragged breathing, I faintly noticed the rise of their chests, in harmony with their light breathing.

I groaned again. Apparently I was the only one who had nightmares before the day of the reaping. Mentally cursing myself, I stood up, and slid into my hunting boots, and pulled on a shirt and trousers, before slipping outside.

Thanks to that nightmare, I was out earlier than usual, but not too early to have the Seam, our part of District 12, crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift. Men and women, with hunched backs, swollen knuckles, the lines of their sunken faces. But today the dark narrow streets were empty. The reaping wasn't until two. May as well sleep in, if you could.

I decided to head to the woods, to check out the snares that I set last night. All the way while I pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow, I couldn't seem to shake off the vivid image of a bruised, deeply injured Katniss out of my head. It was when my hand came into contact with wire loops that I realize I was standing in front of a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire loops that separated the Meadow from the woods. Or more precisely, enclosing all of District 12. Theoretically, it's supposed to be electrified 24 hours a day, to ward off packs of wild dogs, bears – the predators that once threatened our streets. But considering the fact that we're lucky to get only two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, and that in District 12 luck wasn't something that meant what it actually is, it's usually safe to touch. Like now.

Getting down on my belly, I slid under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. As soon as I'm in the trees, I went to check out the snares I set up yesterday. Inside the woods, predatory animals roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals and no real paths to follow.

But behind the dangers, there's also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and taught me before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. I was fourteen then. Years later, I still blamed myself – even hated myself for not being there to get him out alive.

Trespassing in the woods is illegal, and poaching carries the severest of penalties, but almost every time I just defy the law. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. The baker loves squirrels. And Mayor Undersee loves strawberries.

My family needed food, and food wasn't something that appear out of nowhere for my family. But another reason I did this – like Katniss said – I was a born rebel. Maybe I wouldn't be full of such fire if I didn't live here, but I do and I hated the Capitol, what they did and would do to us, the annual reapings and Hunger Games – and being in the woods, poaching and somewhat indirectly rebelling against the Capitol gave me some sort of satisfaction.

When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would burst out about the Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only bring us more trouble, but that didn't mean I was able to hold the surge of anger I felt towards the Capitol, unlike Katniss. She was able to hold her tongue, and to refrain herself from blurting out such tricky topics when she was around people. I was different, though. Very frequently I yell out my indignation in the woods.

Bending down, I checked the snares. I checked the first two. No luck. The third one caught a squirrel. I took it, and set off towards town. It was a few moments later when I stood in front of the bakery. I hesitated, making sure that it was the baker instead of his wife that was at the counter. If the baker had a fondness for squirrels, his wife would certainly bust a vein if she knew of our regular trades.

"Gale?"

I looked up. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the youngest son of the baker staring at me, the expression in his blue eyes one of hostility, and – jealousy? Huh. I didn't have the slightest idea what that meant, though it was the same look every time we met. Well, we never officially met before, it was more of like staring from afar.

"There's only a squirrel," I admitted, ignoring baker boy who I could feel was staring holes at my head.

"Never mind," the baker said, grabbing a loaf of bread, fresh from the oven, and handed it over to me. "Good luck. We all need it," he added.

Right. Today was the reaping. The day when two lives would be robbed from them, by Effie Trinket, District 12's escort perfectly manicured fingers. Luck was exactly the thing we needed right now. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I might be hard, but I never do understand why reaping day seemed to bring people closer – for a disturbingly short moment.

"Yeah. You too. And thanks for the bread," I replied. I could still sense baker boy's gaze as I walked out of the bakery.

I held the bread tightly as I walked back towards the woods. It wasn't everyday I could get real bakery bread, which was far different from the flat, dense loaves we made from our grain rations. An idea crossed my mind and I retrieved my bow and arrow, grinning.

I could feel my face muscles relaxing, my pace quickening as I climbed the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley, with a thicket of berry bushes protecting it from unwanted eyes. Grinning, I stuck an arrow straight at the loaf of bread, puncturing it in the crust.

I sensed, rather than heard, Katniss' footsteps before I saw her. The sight of her walking towards me tugged the corner of my lips into a smile. Katniss said I never smile except in the woods, which is kind of funny; considering that she never smile except in the woods either.

"Hey, Catnip," I said. Her actual name is Katniss, but when she first told me, she had barely whispered it. So I thought she'd said Catnip. Then when a lynx started following her around the woods looking for handouts, it became my official nickname for her. She didn't object, so it stuck.

"Look what I shot, " I said, holding up the bread with the arrow stuck in it.

Katniss laughed, and took it in her hands. She removed the arrow, held the puncture in the crust to her nose, inhaling the fragrance. I knew what she was thinking. Fine bread wasn't everyday food.

"Mm, still warm," she said. "What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" she said, sarcastically. "Prim left us a cheese."

My expression brightened at the treat. It was a perfect little goat cheese, wrapped in basil leaves. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast."

In an alternative to distract myself from today's reaping, I fell into a Capitol accent, mimicking Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who read out the names at the reaping. "I almost forgot! Happt Hunger Games!" I plucked a few blackberries from the bushes. "And may the odds—" I tossed a berry in a high arc towards her.

She caught it swiftly in her mouth and break the skin with her teeth. " –be ever in your favor!" she finished with equal verve. The Capitol accent was so –sickening, almost anything sounded funny in it.

The joke gone, my previous lurking thoughts surfaced. I pulled out my knife, sliced the bread, spread the bread slices with the goat cheese, and placed a basil leaf on each while I watched Katniss plucked the berries off the bushes. Dark brown hair, grey eyes, olive skin; she could easily be my sister, but what I felt for her was definitely more than as a brother. I was sure of my feelings, since six months ago. I didn't say anything about it, though. I didn't want to pressure her. Or maybe I wanted her to realize her own feelings herself, just like I did.

We settled back in a nook in the rocks. Everything would be perfect if all the day meant roaming the mountains, hunting for tonight's dinner. But instead we had to be at the square at two, being haunted by my worst fears.

I didn't want Katniss to suffer in the arena. Well, I didn't want anyone to suffer for the annual Hunger Games. But it was just the way things were. And I hated it.

If we couldn't change the way things were, surely we could change where we were? I knew Katniss and I would make it, living in the woods, free from the hold of the Capitol. We were both born to be in the woods. We could do it. The preposterous suggestion blurted out from my lips.

"We could do it, you know," I said quietly.

"What?" she asked.

"Leave the district, Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," I babbled on.

I risked a glance at her. She was staring at me like I had grown two heads.

"If we didn't have so many kids," I backpedaled quickly. They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Rory. Vick. Posy. Prim. And both our mothers.

"I never want to have kids," she stated.

"I might. If I didn't live here," I admitted. That was true. I would want kids, well, with Katniss, if I didn't live in a place where food meant long hunts in the woods, or that you have to live with worry and dread that your kid would be pick for the Hunger Games.

"But you do," she said, clearly irritated.

"Forget it," I snapped back. I was annoyed, annoyed at myself for forgetting my devotion to my family. And I was annoyed as well that Katniss seemed to disregard my suggestion so quickly. But most of all, I was annoyed at the Capitol, because as I'd thought earlier, even if I wanted kids, District 12 wasn't a place to raise kids, at least not in my opinion. Look at the streets. Starvation wasn't an uncommon issue in District 12. And there's the added concern of the annual reapings.

Suddenly I was mad at the Capitol, truly mad, and from that instance my mood soured.

"What do you want to do?" she asked. I could tell she didn't mean my crazy idea of running away.

"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight," I said.

Tonight. It's just bad enough that after the reaping, after knowing that two families would be grieving, everyone is supposed to celebrate. The Capitol would be celebrating as well –but not out of relief that their children had been spared for a year. The children of the Capitol never had to be at a reaping.

We made out a good catch. A dozen fish, a bag of greens and a gallon of strawberries, much credit to Katniss. She was the one who found the patch years ago, I only placed mesh nets around it to keep out the animals. We swung by the Hob, the black market, and traded six of the fish for bread, the other two for salt. I gritted my teeth when Greasy Sae took half the greens in exchange for a couple of chunks of paraffin. I had to remind myself that we had to stay on good terms with her, since she's the only one who could be counted to but a wild dog.

Knowing that the mayor liked strawberries and could afford our price, we stopped by at the back door of his house. His daughter, whose name I remembered as Madge because she was the only one who would eat lunch, or partner up for sports with Katniss. Today she was dressed in an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair was done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes that could keep the food supply of my family for days.

"Pretty dress," I said, smirking.

Madge shot me a look, pressed her lips and smiled. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

Her reply brought me short. She didn't really think she would actually get reaped, did she? She didn't have to take tesserae, unless she'd like to tell me that her father wasn't the mayor.

"You won't be going to the Capitol," I said coldly. My eyes landed on a small, circular pin on her dress. Genuine gold. Elegantly crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old." I literally spat at her.

"That's not her fault," Katniss stepped in hastily.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," I snapped.

Madge's face became closed off. She gave Katniss money for the berries and wished her luck.

We walked towards the Seam in silence. I could tell that from the silence Katniss didn't like me taking a dig at Madge, but I wasn't going to back down and say it's wrong. The reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worse. When you turn twelve, your name is entered once. And so on and on until you're eighteen. But say you're starving and poor.

Having to feed a family of five single-handedly, there's now forty-two slips of paper with my name on. I signed for tessera since I was twelve, where each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil. In exchange, my name went to the reaping pool six times when I was just twelve.

I knew my anger at Madge was misdirected. The tesserae were another tool to cause hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can put food on their table with ease. Another way to divide ourselves, and the Capitol knew it. I could feel my face smoldering underneath my stony expression.

Katniss and I left two fish, a couple of loaves of bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin and some money for each.

"See you in the square," she said.

"Wear something pretty," I said, hoping my tone didn't come out as flat. I failed anyway.

At home, I scrubbed off the dirt and sweat from the woods. I even brushed my hair and put on a shirt and a pair of trousers. My mother, brothers and sister are all ready. We sat down and ate the bread from the grain rations, as no one really had an appetite anyway. The greens, fish and fine bread would be for tonight, when we know that we're safe from the reaping.

Knowing that the next few hours would be hard for Rory, who's twelve and would be his first reaping, I hugged him and reassured him not to worry. His chances of being reaped are slim, as I didn't and wouldn't let him take any tesserae.

"What about you, Gale? Your forty-two slips," he said, sounding more matured than a twelve year old should. I winced a little. Is this what the Capitol robbed from a twelve year old? Their childhood innocence?

I shook my head slowly, but said nothing. Most likely my name would be called out, but I didn't want to think of that now.

At a quarter after one, we headed for the square. I carried Posy, who trilled over the camera crews and bright banners. I felt a surge of relief and sadness for her. Relief, because her innocence was still in her; sadness, because it would all be robbed from her in a mere few years later.

We filed in and silently signed in, resigned to the grim atmosphere. The Capitol kept tabs on the population through the reaping, which irritated me. Like they care.

After handing Posy to my mother, I walked off with Rory. He would be standing with other twelve-year-olds at the back. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and walked to the front, exchanging tense nods with other eighteen-year-old boys. I looked around and saw Katniss, standing among the sixteen-year-olds, staring vacantly at the temporary stage, probably at the big glass balls. There's Katniss Everdeen written on twenty slips, and Gale Hawthorne on forty-two slips. I gritted my teeth.

When the clock struck two, the mayor began reading the history of Panem, the country that rose from the ashes of a place once called North America. Then came the Dark Days, the uprisings of the districts, where the thirteenth was obliterated. As a reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, the Hunger Games were formed. Each district must provide a boy and a girl, called tributes, to participate. They must fight each other to death, with the last tribute standing wins. Whatever they say, the message was clear. "You lift a finger, we destroy you."

To make matters worse, we were required to treat it as a celebration. It really is a celebration in the Capitol, where they actually enjoy the blood spilled during the Games.

In seventy-four years, District 12 only had two victors. Haymitch Abernathy, a drunk middle-aged man, is the only one alive. He seemed to be fresh from the effects of the drink. The crowd applauded, but he's confused and tried to give Effie Trinket, the District 12 escort, a big hug, and fell into his seat.

The mayor looked distressed, though I can't help smirking. Everything was being televised now, and District 12 would be the laughingstock of Panem, and he knew it. He quickly introduced Effie Trinket, who trotted to the podium and said, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" in her irritating high-pitched Capitol accent.

I turned to Katniss, who looked back at me, mirroring my ghost of smile. Trust Haymitch Abernathy and Effie Trinket to give you a slight entertainment on reaping day. Then suddenly I was thinking of Katniss' twenty slips and my own forty-two slips, and that the odds were entirely not in our favor, my face darkened and I turned away, clenching my jaw.

Effie Trinket crossed to the girls' glass ball, reached in, dug her hand deep into the ball, and pulled out a slip of paper. And I was hoping, hoping, desperately hoping, that it would not be Katniss Everdeen.

She crossed back to the podium and smoothed the paper.

Effie Trinket's shrill Capitol voice rang through the whole hushed square.

And it's not Katniss Everdeen. Not her.

The echo of the shrill Capitol voice rang loud, unmistakably clear in my head.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

A/N :My first fanfic, so do review and tell me what you think! Thanks:)