Wolf Pitpetal of district 7, skinny man of no importance in the lumber district. His father, Will Pitpetal, died in a forest fire. He was of no use for lumber carry, so to provide for his family, he brings homemade things from the outside, which he sneaks out to from time to time. He brought his younger sister a wooden doll, and his mother a crown of flowers. And if he is lucky, he'd bring home a dead rabbit, or even luckier, a deer. He is normally out hunting with the knife he keeps hidden in his boot.
But here he is, all dressed up in the nicest men's clothes his mother could get, without his boots, in the reaping clearing, no idea of what was about to happen.
"HAPPY HUNGER GAMES, and May the odds be ever in your favor!" Jet Thorneville, current reaper for district 7, called out from the podium.
Wolf sighed, and counted to ten.
"Before we get to the fun, let's see a word from our president Snow."
The screen turned on, and the classic video that always plays at reapings came on.
After that ordeal, wolf then counted to eleven.
"Oh, how honorable, now let's begin the reaping, as tradition, and choose who will be representing district seven in the forty first hunger games, of course, LADIES first." Jet spoke excitedly.
The sly, fashionly confusing, man reached a long, shaved, bony hand into the ladies bowl. And drew out a small slip of paper. Wolf counted to ten again.
"Orchid Coppersnow." He announced.
A small, thin little girl, maybe a couple days older than wolf's younger sister, stepped shyly forward, as jet called her up.
This small girl stood there up next to jet. Wolf counted to five.
"Any volunteers from any other girl?" Jet asked the crowd.
Nobody spoke. Wolf counted to three.
"Well then, welcome first tribute of district 7." Jet spoke loudly.
The previous champions looked on in disgust at this man. Wolf counted to five.
Jet, took one more sweeping look at the crowd. "Now onto the boys."
He did the same thing he did to ladies for the boys. Wolf counted to ten.
"Wolf Pitpetal." Jet proclaimed.
Wolf took a breath. 'What!'
"Wolf, mister Pitpetal, were are you sir?" Jet called.
A couple of the champions whispered amongst themselves. And a few of the other males there, some even chuckled.
Wolf took a deep breath, and stepped forward to the platform.
"Ah there you are, mister Pitpetal." Jet called.
Wolf counted every step he took, every cement square he passed, every move he made all the way up to stand beside Jet and Orchid.
"And here we are, district seven's tributes, shake hands." Jet spoke.
Wolf held out his hand, and orchid took, and shook, it.
"HAPPY HUNGER GAMES, and may the odds be ever in your favor." Jet cried out into the microphone.
Wolf took a deep breath, and stared his soon to be opponent into the eye, like a wolf analyzing it's prey.