Author's Foreword: Every writer has a different journey. I began with short stories at a young age, and then gradually found my way to roleplay forums in my early teens. As anyone who has written a character to completion knows, some of our characters stick with us longer than others, and some leave an indelible imprint on our hearts. Zed is that character for me.

Prologue: The Announcement

7:30 in Panem.

The drums sounded, the cymbals clashed, the trumpets blared, and the screens across Panem flickered on to the roar of the Anthem.

Oh horn of plenty, one horn of plenty for us all...

Zedekiah Spelt strode into his dwelling just in time to see the Seal of the Capitol slowly fading from the screen of his television, revealing the pale grey eyes of President Coriolanus Snow as he addressed the nation. Though generally good-natured, upon seeing the pallid white face of his president, Zed's lips pressed together in a disapproving frown. He leaned slightly forward, gripping the handle of his hoe as he listened carefully to the man's announcement.

Snow took the stage, followed closely by a young boy in a white suit. In a measured, clear voice, he began to speak of times past - the Dark Days, those awful days of revolution and rebellion that led to the institution of the Games and the laws that dictated how they should be held. "And of course, these laws also make provisions for those Games which are held in recognition of the glorious years since the Rebellion was subdued. Every twenty-five years, we celebrate the anniversary of our Nation's great triumph with an even greater version of the Games: The Quarter Quell. This Quell serves to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion."

Though he could hardly say why, Zed felt a cold dread flooding his chest as the man continued. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it. On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

Zed's eyebrow's furrowed as he recalled that Games. He remembered it - it had been one of his earliest memories, the first of many recollections that drove fear and pain into the very core of his being. He remembered, though he had been only four, the beauty of the arena, and the terror of watching the tributes as they fought and died. It had been the first year somebody he'd known had been reaped: a boy named Omri. He was thirteen, and he'd been the son of one of the Spelt's closest neighbors. Though he'd escaped the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, he'd been one of the first to go, drinking from a crystal-clear stream that turned out to be deadly poisonous.

Zed shook his head to clear his thoughts as Snow's voice cut in once again. He had taken a small yellow envelope from the wooden box the small boy in the white suit had been holding, and he cleared his throat as though to ensure that all eyes and ears were attentive to him alone.

"This year, on the 75th anniversary, as a reminder that the young are most easily influenced by those they look up to, each district will draw, in addition to their usual two tributes, a third tribute from the adults of the district. This chaperone, if you will, shall be entered into the arena as a third tribute for their district."

The screen flickered once and then faded back into darkness, leaving Zed alone in the dark to ponder this most ominous announcement.

Disclaimer: Because this story was originally crafted as part of a collaborative effort (an rp forum), a few of the characters, situations, and ideas are not my own. Zed is entirely mine, but although a few of the names and characters have been tweaked and expanded upon to suit my own purposes, credit must be given where it is due: The Quell Twist as well as the arena are credited to Shiver and Issy of Time Won't Forget; Captain Brine is also Issy's creation. Ginnifer belongs to Shel, and Branch will forever be Alex's little buddy. The Hunger Games is, of course, Suzanne Collins', and this story would not be here if she had not given us such a rich setting to insert our characters into.