RUN. I run through the meadow. The grass brushing at my ankles as my legs move so swiftly over the ground. My long, dark brown hair whipping me in the face and getting caught in my eyelashes. I need to get away. Away from that school, away from the Seam, away from my brother, away from mum and dad. I need some space. To breath.

I hit the edge of the woods, the new woods as mum calls them. She used to know the old ones before they burnt down in the fire when she was younger. I knew the new ones, the smell of fresh rain landing on a leaf, where I should place my foot on the different terrains, how to climb a tree. I didn't stop, over fallen trees, stumps, a dead dear half eaten by something bigger than itself. There's plenty of things that are so much bigger than me. NO. I don't want to think just yet.

I stumble a little as I slow because of my thoughts, my feet pick themselves back up again and propel me forward. Tree, bush, stone, frog, flying pigeon, all go past me without me giving a second thought. I don't really think about the noise I'm making at that moment (something I am normally so very cautious about) I need to be in the branches of my favourite and safest tree.

I turn left. Right. Forward. Left. Left again. Right. Then there it is, right in front of me is my safe point. I jump onto the base, finding my hand and foot wells that seem to be a natural part of the tree now that they have been overused. Within 5 minutes I am at the highest point of the tree that you can sit comfortably and safely without falling to your death if a bird or a squirrel happened to jump out on you.

To the West is District 11, a tower peak is just accessible to the naked eye on a clear day. But today is not one of those days, especially in my head. Now I know that I can think this through on my own, uninterrupted I can breathe. Slow my heart, my pace down. The adrenaline begins to dismiss itself from my blood stream. The river flows beneath me and my tree, from my vantage point I can see a few fish, what look like Salmon passing our waters in their search of a mate and I would guess a mating ground. Small water birds with long legs are stalking their way through the water, the current breaking gently at their ankles, their heads are down, breaking and digesting the Katnip weed that grows so well in the waters that flow on the land of District 12. The weed always holds strong connotations to me, I can remember learning all about it in my first year of school...

School.

All of everything I had learnt in the last 10 minutes before I broke free of the classroom and the confinement of the school suddenly came flying back to me. It nearly knocked me out of the tree with the power of a forest cat. Katnip, Katniss, mum, the hunger games.

I always knew there was something called the hunger games, you heard all the older kids telling you that if you didn't behave yourself at school then they would reinstate them and then you would straighten right out. But up until today I had no clue what they actually were.

In the space of 10 minutes I had found out:

1 minute: In the old days on Panem there used to be such things as the Hunger Games.

We knew this.

2 minutes: It would consist of 12 boys and 12 girls.

There had been rumours about how many children that took part, ranging from 12 all together to 12 from each district.

3 minutes: A boy and girl were picked from each district, from a bowl full of names of every child aged between 12-18.

Hmmm, 12, really?

4 minutes: District 12 was always the one that came last,

Oh really, wonder why? It's not like we have skilled people in our district.

5 minutes: in both the screening and also the competition itself.

Really?Death? Huh?

7 minutes: The tributes (the boys and girls picked) would fight each other until there was only one survivor,

Bloody hell, why would anyone think this was a good idea?

8 minutes: we only have three victors that come from right here in District 12.

They must have been really good!

9 minutes: Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th hunger games.

Uncle Haymitch?

10 minutes: and Pete Mallack and Katniss Everdeen, now Mallack, victors of the 74th hunger games.

Dad. Mum.

Everyone looks at me. Me, Rosy Mallack.