Staring out at my beautiful lake I think about the events this day brings. The Reaping is nothing new to me I have been lucky these past 5 years. However as I stare at the innocent and peaceful lapping of the waves against the rocks I feel a sense of foreboding. I soak up the warmth and relax the peaceful surroundings as much as I can before getting up and walking back into town.

Eventually it is time to go and I head back to town. I live in the part of my district, District 8, that raises the lambs for the capitols precious lamb stew and the sheep for their precious fabric. The rest of my district makes the fabric and clothes. Since animals always taste the best after a good upbringing I am lucky enough to be able to spend time in beautiful surroundings.

I whistle to the dogs that herd the sheep, Oliver and Mortimer (Morty for short) and they set about to do their work of bringing the sheep together and after me. I count them as well as I can and determine that none are missing. As I walk I wonder what I could even do if my name were drawn. My only skill is training dogs and I doubt someone would sponsor me a dog, if that is even possible.

When I get to the livestock pen make sure that all 42 sheep are there before mixing them with the rest. My sheep wear purple collars to mark them as my responsibility. However if something happened to the sheep while they were in the pens all of us herders would be lashed. But if one of mine died in the pen from an illness I should have treated I would get lashed. So I pay extra attention to make sure they are all lively and none of them are limping.

I walk slowly to the Reaping, making extra care not to show my feelings. I would not like to get lashed, today is bad enough. My dogs follow me, but they always do and no one says a thing against it because they are extremely well behaved and valuable to the capital's needs. Once I join the gradually growing crowd I sense everyone's fear and anxiety.

I spot my friend Hazel in the crowd. She calls out to me, "Agnes!" Ugh. I hate that my mother named me that. She named me after her friend Shelda Agnes who died in the Games about a decade ago. Even Shelda is better than Agnes. Hazel runs towards me and grabs my hand tight. We wait in fear and anticipation for the event to start.

Jenn stands on the stage. She comes from the capitol to retrieve District 8's winners and help them get ready for the games. This year's mentors also stand on the stage next to her. Jenn is rather crazy looking like all citizens of the capitol. She has her skin died a pale blue and her hair died a pale pink. She looks like the cloud-like candy they sell to the wealthy children at the market. She also has garish looking teath that look as though they have been set with a strange blue stone. I want to roll my eyes but I refrain.

The mentors look… tired and depressed. They have seen too many children get killed. They mayor speaks and then Jenn does and the mentors say a few things. Then Jenn gets out that horrid box and pulls out a piece of paper. I bite my lip in anticipation…