One of the older girls, a fifteen-year-old named Flynn Odair, returned from the kitchen with a cup of hot tea in her hands. Orange spice flavored, which was Mags's favorite.
"Thank you, dear," the old woman said, gently taking the cup from the teen. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath through her nose before sipping it, and breathing out luxuriously. "I remember my victory tour, all those years ago. District 11 had had a historically grand harvest that year, and the celebratory bonfire they'd set up in the District's center smelled of this. Pumpkins, cinnamon, citrus…"
Flynn sat down with the rest of the children who'd gathered in Mags's living room, most of them between five and ten years of age. She was there to chaperone her younger cousin, a rowdy eight-year-old, who rolled his shining green eyes. "Come on, Mags! You've got the tea, so tell us already!"
Mags laughed as old people do when the young grow impatient, a quality that fades with age. "Oh, Finnick, Finnick…. You're demanding in the most amusing way. If you don't learn some patience soon, fishing will be the bane of your existence when you're older."
Finnick scoffed, "Flynn's already started teaching me to use a trident. Much less waiting then nets or traps or lines. And I'm really good at it."
"I'm sure you are," the old woman said, her voice like a warm hug, and leaned forward to ruffle the boy's dark red hair.
A small girl, only five years old, stood up in the back of the group. Her dark brown hair was short, just grazing her chin, and her blue-green eyes were large. "Please, Mags. We asked you after the Victory Tour passed through six months ago, and you said then that you'd tell us the night before the Reaping. Reaping's tomorrow, and we're here now, so please, tell us."
"Yeah, tell us about the Dark Days!" a boy shouted. "You did promise that you would."
Mags chuckled again. "Oh, fine, fine. But don't let me hear of your parents blaming me for your nightmares." Her face changed then. It hardened and became very serious. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to remember. "Oh… I was no older than little Annie back there when it all finally ended. I truly don't remember much, but I'll give you kids what I can."
She took a deep breath. "Sixty years ago, when I was only four years old, I was confused. Confusion, is all I can recall of it. So confused. Why were my parents so happy? I could see fire through the window, people running, screaming, hurting each other. Peacekeepers, or as I called them then, the adults in white, were caught in nets and stabbed by citizens. And yet my parents, seeing the same horror I could see, were smiling. Their breath was fast, and their brows were sweating with zealous energy. My father took up his trident and my mother, a nice knife she'd used to perfectly carve what fish were allowed to keep for ourselves.
"They ran outside to join the fight, leaving me safely inside with my much older brother, Rip, who was about sixteen at the time, twelve years older than I. By morning, a neighbor came to our door. When Rip opened, it, I could see that everyone was out in the streets. The ground was covered in blood, but they were rejoicing, and again I was confused. The man at our door didn't look as happy, though. He spoke to Rip, and after he left, Rip sat me down and explained to me this: District 4, along with the others, was in rebellion against the Capitol, and last night, we fought for control over the District. All the Peacekeepers were dead now. We'd won the battle and were one step closer to freedom. But then, he told me that our parent had been killed. The enemy had stronger weapons, so many of the rebels didn't make it through the night.
"I never quite understood what was going on until much later, but I went along with it. Rip took care of me by himself after that. In the following months, the rebels' odds began to fall, and more and more battles were lost in the districts. Almost a year since it all started, Rip told me that the rebels were planning an invasion of the Capitol, the battle to end this once and for all. And he was going to fight in it."
"Wait, wait, wait! Mags!" Finnick yelped, his hand stretched into the air as far as he could get it without standing up. "We learned about this in school today! The rebels lost because of the mountains, right?"
"Finn!" the brown-haired girl in the back, Annie, wailed. "No spoilers! Let Mags tell it herself!"
"Oh, shut it, Cresta!" Finnick snapped. "Why are you always so obnoxious?"
That earned him a sharp smack upside the head from Flynn, who then walked back to comfort Annie. The little girl was bullied by Finnick more often than she deserved.
Mags sighed, "Yes, Finnick, it was because of the mountain. The Capitol had the high ground, which put the odds very much in their favor. The rebels were quickly defeated, and that summer, the first Hunger Games was held. But you kids learn all this in school. You hear it every year before the Reaping, the story of the Dark Days. With my sixty-four years of experience, I know that what you came here to hear is a civilian's perspective. How it felt to me.
"Rip didn't die in those mountains. Miraculously, he came home. Five years old, all I remember from that day was the sheer joy of seeing him again and him hugging me close. But it was bittersweet. Most of the people we knew who'd gone to fight in that battle did not come back. Our friends, extended family, and neighbors. On top of that, President Acanthus was on the television that night, telling us that 13 had been eradicated as an example of what could happen to us. He also announced the annual Hunger Games and their rules. After the broadcast, no one spoke. No one knew what to say. It wasn't like it is now, where the Games are constantly in the back of our minds, and the Capitol is always reminding us of it. People were shocked about the murder of Distict 13, and baffled by the idea of sending their children to die.
"I didn't even know what was going on. Just like the rebellion had been, the Hunger Games were an alien concept, something I'd never heard of. All I knew was that they were terrible."
"I haven't taken any tesserae. My name'll be in only four times tomorrow, but that doesn't mean I'm safe," Flynn whispered. "I've been training, of course. I mean, we are 4. We are careers. The odds are in our favor. Always. But I'm not ready just yet."
The old woman's wrinkled eyes rested sadly on the fearful face of the young girl. "Don't you worry, dearie," she said, her thin voice sounding strong and assuring. "As you said, we are a career district. Even if you are picked, I'd bet everything I own that someone will volunteer anyway. You'll be fine, so buck up."
Flynn nodded, frazzled. "Y-you're right. I'll be fine, tomorrow."
"Yes, you will. Now, fifty-nine years ago, on this very night, I was tucked into bed by the brother, and he kissed me on the forehead, and he whispered a number. 'Six' he said. I didn't understand what he meant. Six. But the next morning, he signed in with the other kids aged twelve to eighteen, and I waited and watched with my friend's family. I waited and watched as one of the six slips of paper that bore his name was drawn from the ball and read aloud. He walked forward to stand with the girl who was picked. I don't remember her at all. I was only focused on Rip. My friend's mom hugged me then, and I still didn't fully understand what was going on.
"It wasn't until just after that, when I was saying goodbye to him in the Justice Building that it all made sense. I was never going to see him again, and it was because our parents and the adults of all the other districts tried to hurt the Capitol. I don't think I've ever cried in my life as much as I cried the night I watched him die. He made it to the final three, and the girl from 2 just outran him. Mutts were chasing them, and they got him."
Silence, silence that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, pressed on the room. The waves on the shore outside made the only sound until a girl, about ten years old, spoke up. "But then you went into the Games. And you came back. You were the thirteenth Games when you were eighteen. You brought pride to District 4 as a Victor. Do you think Rip would have been proud of you?"
Mags took a long time to answer. She'd tossed this thought around in her mind hundred of times in the past forty-six years. Yes, she'd made her District proud, but she'd let herself be a piece in the Capitol's Games. Her life was putty in their hands, made into a tool used to inspire fear. She was the only one who survived. She'd killed the children of the other districts. Her story was a reminder of the Capitol's power.
"If I was as young and strong as I was at eighteen but as wise as I am now, at sixty-four, I'd put myself to better use. I'd carry on the legacy of my parents, of my brother, of all those people who were willing to sacrifice or did sacrifice their lives for freedom. But I'm old now. If I had the chance, I'd die in the place of anyone able to stand up to the Capitol. Without a second of hesitation, I'd run to death for the sake of a person like that."
The children stared, jaws dropped. No one spoke against the Capitol. Especially not here in District 4. The Capitol was good to them. Better to them, at least, than to most of the other Districts. The Capitol allowed their children to train before going into the Games, a privilege denied to the others and what designated them as careers.
Flynn stood up, "Well, it's getting late. And tonight is a night for family, so you'd all best be heading home to your parents. Particularly those of you with older siblings or cousins." The children filed out of the mansion and back into town from Victors' Village.
Finnick paused to ask Mags a question, but Flynn tugged his arm for him to follow, and the old woman shook her head. "Go with your cousin, Odair."
Two years later, Flynn Odair, seventeen years old, was reaped for and died in the sixty-first Hunger Games. Finnick spent more time on his boat or at Mags's mansion than at his own home, and always had his trident on hand. Flynn had never gotten to finish training him to use it, but he was determined to master the art of the trident… for her, in honor of her.
Four years later, fourteen-year-old Finnick went into the sixty-fifth arena. Because of her fierce negotiations, Mags was able to mentor him and his partner in place of the most recent Victor, which was tradition. Because of her, he was able to return to his district and was lucky enough to be given the mansion next to hers in Victors' Village. But the happiness stopped there.
Two years later, when he was sixteen, President Snow informed him that scores of Capitol women and almost just as many men, would give anything for a night alone with him. Finnick was disgusted and outraged, but Snow threatened the lives of his family, Mags, and Annie, who he'd been getting along with particularly well in recent years and had even become his best friend. He reluctantly agreed. When he confided this to Mags, who hadn't been in the best health of late, she collapsed. The doctors told him it was a stroke. She survived, but her speech was garbled and hard to understand. He made due. He'd spent enough time with her throughout his life, after all.
It was at the seventieth reaping, three years later, that Finnick Odair realized he was in love with Annie Cresta. Seeing her stand on that stage, he could feel it: the torturous pain he knew would cripple him if he had to see her die. So he vowed, as a mentor and lifelong friend, that he'd get her out alive. He succeeded in that, but her mind was never the same.
The rest is well known. Running from deadly fog through the jungle of the seventy-fifth arena, Peeta Mellark on his back, Katniss Everdeen struggling to keep pace behind him while still carrying Mags, he heard her call to him. Katniss couldn't make it with the old woman, but he couldn't carry both her and Peeta. Tears stung his already burning eyes as he remembered what Mags had said sixteen years ago. He'd only been eight but he remembered it like it was yesterday. Without a second of hesitation, Mags ran to death for the sake of the one person who could stand up to the Capitol.
And he swore he'd do the same.