24 pods emerged from the ground. The viewer of the 74th annual hunger games would usually have had 60 seconds of stillness before things really, well… how do you say it… kicked off. However, this time it was different. As the whole of Panem stood still, the two young girls, who should have been stood still, quaking in fear, were in fact clearly busy. They were stood teetering on their small platform, taking off their shoes. They were still clearly wearing something reasonably sturdy underneath their shoes, some sort of thick sock. But they, to the best assumption of the viewer, had decided their shoes would weigh them down. It was odd, very odd.
With 10 seconds to go, they stood up and made eye contact. The little people of the games. Blonde hair and brown hair waving in the wind, blue eyes and brown eyes staring at each other. An imperceptible nod.
5 seconds to go.
"If we burn, you burn with us!" they screamed, each throwing a shoe in the opposite direction. Shoe landing half a second before the bombs were switched off.
Deafening booms. Clock hits zero.
The two sets of tiny feet ran for their lives. Blonde hair heading straight for the large medical pack, brown hair scooping up some wire, some knives and a small rucksack, unaware of what was in it.
The deafening sounds of the bombs going off had startled some of the other competitors. One was clutching their ear. No one had really stopped to check who was lost, and if they had, perhaps they would have been hugely shocked.
"The trees! The Trees," A small voice shouted. She ran to her friend, "Get out of here, go!".
Two small hands clasped together in the middle of chaos. Anchoring each other to the reality of their situation.
And so they ran. And ran and ran and ran. Time and space began to melt away as all they could think of was running for their lives. On and on they went, minutes melted away and time became fluid.
"Up here!" the little girl with the olive skin let go of her blonde friends' hand and gesticulated madly, panting heavily trying to intake enough
The blonde girl nodded, panting.
They climbed. The small girl with blonde pigtails more clumsily than her friend. They climbed and climbed and climbed, out of the reach and sight of those chasing them.
At length they stopped, on boughs solid enough to support them.
They panted, heart rate returning to normal, adrenaline subsiding.
The blonde girl grinned at her friend. Then she laughed.
"Rue, we did it…"
Rue hugged her back. "We're alive."
The smiles could not be wiped off their faces. They just sat there, hugging each other and drinking in the joy of still breathing, still having hope for a future.
Back in the tribute centre, Haymitch was looking in shock at the screen. He was struggling to process what he had just seen.
The mentor area was loud. There was pure anger emanating from the side of the careers from the second the bomb went off. Outer district mentors looked on in shock, some in anger at the damaged caused to their tributes, but most amazement and amusement.
"Genuis," Beetee, the District 3 mentor murmured.
Haymitch slid his wheelable chair over to his long-time friend from district 11 who was sat as the station next to him, also in shock.
"Did you…?" He whispered.
"No idea." Chaff responded. "I loved her, but I thought she was dead. For fucks sake, she's 12. No way should she still be alive".
Haymitch leaned back in his chair.
"Do you think your girl knows?" Haymitch asked… "Do you think she has any idea the shit storm that's going to go down with what they have just done? How the fuck did they figure out the bombs"
"I just think she's not willing to go down without a fight. She's got brains… your girl too. Brains and anger. It's how every outer district…"
"What the actual f*ck Haymitch?" Out of nowhere, Cashmere's voice appeared in front of him. Hand around his neck. With unbelievable force for a middle-aged drunk, Cashmeres hand was forcibly removed from Haymitches throat and twisted behind her back, body forced against the wall.
"What's this, got one hurt early did we sweetheart?" Haymitch growled.
"Your girl cheated…"
"My girl has brains, more than could have been said for yours! Now fuck off out my face, Plastic" Haymitch groweled.
Haymitch let her go, and turned to sit back down.
"She cheated." Cashmere started again,
"That's rich coming from you, bitch," Haymitch spat, "She'd never have won anyway your girl… what the fuck was she even good at apart from sleeping with your academy judges."
Cashmere stormed out.
Back in the game, Prim and Rue were checking out their rucksack. Waterbottle, rope, dried fruit, spare socks and a sleeping bag. Prim was looking through a weird pair of spectacles, trying to figure them out.
Rue almost dropped the wire she had in her hands.
"Pass those…" Prim dropped them into Rues hand.
Rue looked through them and laughed, silently.
"May the odds be ever in our favour Prim" … "Ever in our favour."
"What are they?" Prim asked, confused.
"Night vision goggles. We got night vision goggles Prim! I don't know what they were doing so far from the Cornucopia, but we got freaking night vision goggles!".
The anthem started…The girls looked up. Seven dead in the bloodbath it seemed.
Glimmer; that was a shock. The boy from four also. The Boy from 8 with the bad foot, less of a shock, and both the girl and the boy from 9 & 10. 7 gone in the bloodbath. Odds improving.
2/ 17 now. Prim shivered. It becomes more morbid by the minute, the way you think in here, she mused. Peeta was still alive though, Thresh too. As much as they wanted to win, and as much as they thought it was futile, didn't want their friends to die. Certainly not before them.
"We should get settled for bed," Rue said.
They climbed to a more comfortable branch and tied themselves in. They didn't bother arranging a watch. They knew they wouldn't kill each other, they were so high up most of the other tributes would die even getting up this tree.
They were in the Hunger Games, but the odds were looking better by the second.
The alliance between Prim and Rue had been somewhat unexpected. The day their lives both had changed forever, the world stood in silence. The world had just expected them to die. Prim knew Katniss would have volunteered if she could, but she was given a sick exemption from her bout of what Prim had believed to be the old world sickness of West Nile Virus, transmitted through a mosquito bite. Rue was the oldest of her siblings though, not a chance.
They both had one slip, one slip in that bowl, and they knew they'd not been the only ones.
Punitive reaping had been speculated about by the rebellion establishment for quite some time. Since the 50th Hunger Games and that girl from 12 actually, the one Haymitch had allied with for a time.
But on day 1 of tribute training, everything changed for both of them. Out of sight, at the 'old games' station of all places. They'd been staring at the TV for a while now.
"How many slips did you have?" Prim asked Rue.
"1. The boy from 8 only had one too. The one with the dodgy foot, the mayors Son. I was going to have more, but we managed to last until reaping day without tesserae. I was going to do it today actually, the first day after when you can take it, so it's only added onto my next years slips"
"How many people live in your district?"
"Oh, I dunno, thousands. We don't all fit in the town square at the Reaping. 12 is tiny, isn't it?"
"Really tiny… but the odds, it's still so low. My district has reaped 12 year olds, but only those who've taken Tesserae."
"You got family?" Prim asked.
"My Ma and my 4 little brothers and sisters. Pa died when I was 7… agriculture incident, they said."
"It's just my Ma and my Older Sister…My Pa died in a mine explosion. I've heard rumours…"
"Me too."
They sat in silence.
"I'm really quiet," said Rue.
"I'm pretty quick," said Prim.
"I'm good at hiding,"
"I know plants,"
"Me too" said Rue.
They looked at each other, not daring to believe they had found a friend in this room of despair.
"Allies?" Rue said
Prim nodded.
They sat in silence again.
"No one has ever used the bombs before, did you know that?" Rue said to Prim.
Prim just looked at her, wide eyed.
"It's all I've done since I got here, watch the old games. I mean, people have played with the arena, your mentor threw that axe which bounced back… but nothing deliberate. Nothing with the bombs. The way I see it, if we can time it right, it will be a huge distraction if nothing else. Time it wrong… well, we're dead anyway aren't we. At least we've not given up that way. Caused a whole lot of trouble along the way. I don't want to kill anyone but I really don't want to just give up. My family are watching, I have to give them something to fight for. I have to give 11 something to fight for"
Prim and Rue sat in silence. Prim was thinking about home, about Katniss, and about her district. She couldn't see Katniss again by fighting, Katniss could have, if she was here… but she wasn't her sister. She couldn't use a bow and arrow and she certainly couldn't physically do the action that caused the death in front of her, stab someone or something. She thought of 12, beaten down and desperate. But causing an explosion… that might give her enough of a running start to get out of there, and if it caused some drama along the way… so be it.
"If we're going to die…" she started, and then looked up at Rue with a grin, "Let's cause a whole lot of trouble on the way."
The rest of that day, they made a start on causing trouble. They were both painfully aware that the "normal" training venues weren't going to work for them. They needed to start the game now. The game was plotting, the game was brains for them. The game was using peoples own feelings and perceptions against them. The game was becoming a con artist.
The game was art, in its most messed up form, thought prim.
Rue started by stealing Cato's knife. They sat gossiping by the TV which was playing the old games for a while before they worked out how to do it.
Then they figured it out. As lunch was called, Prim ran past, acting the small little girl that everyone thought she was, excited for food, not award of her surroundings. She barrelled straight into Cato, falling to the ground.
Cato stood there and laughed. Four careers surrounding Prim was fairly scary, but Prim was desperate to see if it worked. What would Gale call it? A trap?
"What have we got here then?" Cato laughed.
"A little mouse that needs to watch where she's going I think," said Clove, "otherwise the big cats are gunna strike her down,"
"P….please don't hurt me," Prim stuttered, struggling to pull herself up.
"Little mouse, if we could now, we would… But you've got three days still alive so run along and get some food now, you might as well enjoy it."
Prims job was over, she didn't need telling twice. She bolted from the scene with the Careers over to lunch. A small nod and a smile was all she got from Rue. Prim smiled back.
They sat down, and ate as much as they physically could. In silence.
The rest of the day, they wandered around the survival stations. Camouflage, fishing, swimming. All the overlooked stations were important for the overlooked kids.
At about 2pm though, the boy from 7 bumped into Cato accidently on his way to the spear station. Cato flipped. Twice today. He thought.
Then he realised.
"You little weasel, you stole my knife,"
Rue and Prim were at the top of the cargo net, biting their lips to stop themselves from giggling at the ensuing fight below them.
"Give me back my damn knife seven!" Cato screamed, slamming the kid against the wall. The poor kid was terrified.
"I don't have your knife,"
Cato's hand sneaked up to the poor boys' throat.
"You're dead kiddo, you're the first one I go for in the arena."
Cloves arm sneaked around Cato's chest.
"Leave it… They're over here." Cato continued to press the boys throat.
"Save it two, Save your killing for the arena."
Cato withdrew immediately from the boy's throat. He fell immediately to the floor, panting. Prim and Rue were sat holding the knife that Cato hadn't noticed go missing out of his pocket over two hours ago. Arrogance was a killer, Haymitch had told Peeta last night. Chaff, it transpired had said similar to Thresh.
But the two little people knew better. Overlook the little people at your peril.
The little people of Panem. Well they could cause all kinds of trouble.
Thresh looked up, and smiled.