Alright this is my first Hunger Games FF. I like it, and I hope you do to. I do need tributes for the Games! Please submit! Entry Form on the bottom. R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games or any concept or plot line involved with it, or any of its characters.

1.

I was running. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe because I was running off my feelings. Or it could be I was trying to escape what was to come the next day. Or maybe I was trying to catch the ram that had just blew it's way out of the pen.

So that's why I had my crook in my hand.

"Go, Ani, go!" my friend Giles screamed.

Wow this goat was fast.

I stumbled over grass and glided over rocks, trying to catch the ram before we reached the electric gate surrounding our District. 'Cause if that ram hit that fence it would be charcoal and firefood, not something I could likely sell.

Finally, in the amount of time that it took the ram to leap over a small boulder, I was there, my crook around its neck and a net about its head. It was only then when I realized that I was only about five feet away from being fried.

I stepped back carefully, then slipped the lead around the ram's neck, pulling the net out.

When I walked back into the pens, all my workmates cheered for me as I lead the ram back into its prison.

"Way to go, Ani!" Giles said as he clapped me on the back. "Now all you need to do is survive the reaping!" he laughed.

"Yeah, yeah," I said solemnly.

"What?" he asked. "You only got two tesseraes."

"It's not that," I replied non-convincingly. "I wanted to butcher a couple before the reaping but that stupid ram got me running, and now I have to be home in a half hour."

"Well, I'll help you," Giles said cheerfully.

"Really?" I asked, brows raised. "Well, alright then, but you're not going to like it."

"I think I can handle it," Giles smirked.

"I can't handle it!" Giles cried as I chopped the neck off a chicken, its gold little feathered body still running around before it slumped down and died.

"I told you!" I shouted, raising my voice above the chickens. "Now hold the black one down!"

Giles stifled barf as I chopped another one, and nearly fainted when I stripped them of their feathers. By the time they were cook-worthy and in a bag to take home, Giles looked right dead on his feet.

"Come on," I said, nudging him. "Time to go home."

"Not with them," he spat, disgusted, at the bag.

"Be a man," I laughed. "You're fourteen,"

"I work with animals," Giles replied grimly. "I don't murder them."

"Grow up," was my response.

You see, Giles doesn't know how good he has it. Sure, we both live in the same neighborhood, and we don't have it as bad as the Cleaners in the Sweep, but we still have to break the law and butcher the animals ourselves to get out of paying the extremely high price for meat at the market. At least, I do. I do it all the time, and Giles…that was his first, you can probably tell. His family is chock full of meat and food cause he has three older brothers, and all of them take the tesserae. And they all work in the stables down in the nice end of the District, well, all except for Dume, who works with the cows. Even so, those jobs paid high money, not enough to get you to live in the Reel, but enough to get you along, and even more when you got three brothers taking tesserae so that you don't have to. No, Giles doesn't know how good he has it.

Me? I live alone with my father, who still works with the bulls. It gets us along, too, but being an only child means that I have to take the tesserae and work, too. My job is with the hens, but being fast also comes in handy, so my second, higher-paying job is with the rams.

And so I am scared. Scared for myself, scared for Giles's brothers, because if they were gone, he and his mother would fall into a state of struggling to keep themselves in the financial area of the Hub.

None of us could get reaped.

If I was reaped, I guess my dad would move in with Giles family. They look out for us, and I, I look out for Giles. If Giles got reaped, the most that would happen is that his family would lose his small amount of money, and his life. Because, face it, I thought, he'd never survive. He's too nice. He cried because of the chicken.

"You okay?" he asked me, and I realized that I had been walking in silence, making it awkward.

"Yeah," I answered. "Yeah, just worried about the reaping tomorrow."

"I know," he sighed. "Dume, he has four tesseraes. I can't even think of what would happen if he left."

I could. And it might happen, only because Dume took four tesseraes. Four tesseraes that his family didn't need.

"G'night," I said to Giles as we reached our small little houses right across from each other. I reached the top of the wooden steps, turned to see Giles opening the door, and said his name. He turned around.

"Happy Hunger Games," I smiled weakly.

Giles bowed graciously. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

And with that we turned and entered the houses.

I looked at my reflection in my mirror. It was a dirty, cracked little thing, and I couldn't make out much without squinting.

"You're beautiful," my father said, coming up behind me and giving me a hug. I looked up at him. My father was the best looking man I knew, though I did not know almost any other men outside the pens and the market.

I looked down then, to my white, pretty dress that met at my knees and tied with a red bow at my middle. I brushed my fingers through my wavy, auburn-brown hair that ended on my mid-biceps. My father had told me that my eyes were brown and as dark as the midnight sky, but when I looked in my mirror all I saw was mud where my pretty eyes were supposed to be.

My father and I walked to the square together, and he gave me the biggest, longest, and most loving hug he could muster. Then I departed and made my way to the area specifically roped off for fourteen-year-old girls. I smiled, knowing that the rope was probably made of the same hemp that grew next to the manure pile.

After the reading of the previous victors, the speech from the mayor, blah blah blah, and then he introduces a young lady with bright red hair to the stage.

"Hello District Five!" she calls. "My name is Lucy Finelar, and I am here to say Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

As always, this woman is way to cheery for me.

"Alright!" Lucy Finelar cheers, and makes her way to the giant, swirling, glass balls that inhabits thousands of names, some of them my friends, some of them me.

"Ladies first!" She perks, and she dips her hand into the giant ball that holds all of the girls' names. Then her voice rings out.

"Anitalla Razar!"

At first it doesn't register to me, because no one that I know calls me by my full name. But then I realized that it was indeed me, that I was going to play in the Hunger Games, That I was going to die.

As I made my way up to the dreaded stage, I saw Giles running to the front of the crowd. "Ani!" He yelled. I looked him in the eye, feeling his own pain. My own pain. But I knew that he'd be safe. He was only one ticket among thousands. But he would give his own life for me. But he could not volunteer for a girl.

"Welcome to the 37th Hunger Games!" Lucy Finelar told me, and I stood by her as she reached inside the glass ball that marked the fate for one unlucky boy. Lucy pulled out a strip of paper and read the unfortunate name.

"Dustin Salor!"

I knew that name. I knew that name. Yes, I had seen him in school, but I never paid attention to people in school. I knew him from the pens. Yes, Dustin…he worked with the pigs. More specifically, the boars. He worked with the boars because he was short for his age of fifteen, about the size of three and a half boars stacked, so he was about my height. Also, he was strong. He couldn't run, like me, but he didn't use a crook or a lead. He used his arms to pick up the boars. He wasn't ripped or anything, but Hunger Games competitor wise, I was doomed if it came to him and me.

His dirty blond hair that brushed his eyebrows showed among the variety of red, brown and black. He came up and shook hands with me, a grin on his face. I did not smile back.

Lucy Finelar turned to me and asked me in a loud voice if I had any comments before we went of for the Games. I took the microphone, looked straight at Giles, who was standing next to Evan, the pen-keeper, and said, "The pens just lost two Hub workers." Then I handed the microphone back and walked offstage toward the white-stoned Justice Building.

Dustin followed me silently into the building, a grim look on his face. A Peacekeeper frowned at me, but other than that I met no other objections against my comment.

We were separated into two different rooms for the time that I knew only too well. Goodbyes to our loved ones. The room was basically all white and stone, with one desk and chair in the middle. I felt like it was an interagation room, and that they were watching me. I decided that I shouldn't cry, in case they were. Then I thought about my strategy.

My approach to the other tributes…only Dustin knew how fast a runner I was and how tough I was around the boys in the ram pen. But I was only rough because I was the only girl with the rams. In the hen coop, all the girls swooned over the chick's cuteness and cried when a chicken pecked them.

I got out of there as much as I could.

So how was I to appeal? I doubted I could get an alliance, because of my boney and weak appearance. No one would be able to recognize my leg strength. I knew how to use a knife and axe well enough. When I butchered the animals I would practice throwing them against the wall to hit the mark, just for something to be good at. And because of the creeping nightmare that was now my reality. If I looked as if I could never even kill a person in my lifetime, then I would look easy to pick off, and no one would worry about me. But how I acted in the arena could save my life.

I decided to bawl my eyes out.

First my father entered the room. He gave me a big hug, not saying a word. Then he held me out at arms length, tears running down his face. I was letting my pain out my eyes, and I knew that I looked pathetic. Like a small little lamb that just stood up without its mother there to feed it. We spoke little words, but then my dad handed me two objects. The first was a homemade biscuit. The second, a small red wax candle.

"This is fancy," I said, holding the candle. It wasn't longer than my first finger, but it was so magnificent that my eye couldn't leave it. It seemed to have a touch of gold in the middle.

"I want you to keep it. Use it as your token. It will remind you of home." My father kissed my forehead, told me he loved me, and left, his last goodbye to me the best gift I could have ever received from him.

Then Giles ran into the room. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me to and fro.

"You can't die, Ani, I don't care, but you have to beat the rest of them, kill them all, even Dustin, 'cause you can't die!"

I grabbed Giles hands. He looked at me.

"I'm going to be just fine, Giles. And if I don't come back, you're the one who's gonna help out my dad. I'm gonna be fine, no matter what."

Giles embraced me and a tight hug, and even though the whole gender-thing was awkward between us, I had never in my life felt the feeling I had with Giles. He was my best friend, my brother, and I was glad it was me, not him, that was going to their death.

After more tears and hugs, Giles left, and then Evan, the pen-keeper, came in. He handed me a piece of paper folded. He gave me an unexpected hug, and then said one sentence:

"I know a few people in the Capitol. I'll make sure you get sponsors. You'll be all right. I know how fast you run."

And then he left.

It occurred to me now that Evan, who lived in the Reel, Evan, who made enough money to not even think about the next meal, Evan, my highest boss, had paid attention to me.

It felt good to know that.

After I knew my visitors were all gone, I looked at the biscuit my father gave me. It was still warm in my hand, and I took a bite out of it. Delicious.I ate almost all of it, but then realized what I was doing. I stuffed the last precious piece into my sash.

I tried to picture myself as I walked out. Before I exited the room I burst into a believable sob fest, leaving my face red and very wet. I left the room like that, was still crying as the Peacekeepers led me to the train area, where I was to board the train to the Capitol. And there was Dustin, looking strong and controlled, standing at the platform. I could convince him, too. I let more tears stream down my face, and I even let out a few sniffs and whimpers here and there next to him. He almost looked sorry for me.

Then I realized that our mentor wasn't at the reaping. Who was it? Being the 37th Hunger Games, District 5 only had about six victors. One had died from disease, another was too bedsick to mentor. One was a heavy alcoholic, another was pshycotic. That only left two capable to mentor Dustin and me.

"Do you think it's gonna be Rainer or Monica?" Dustin asked me without looking.

I was still letting the tears flow. I was thinking about the both of the previous victors. Rainer McMarky won in the 21st Hunger Games, when he was seventeen. Now, sixteen years later, Rainer was thirty-three and still fit. He would make a good mentor, he won by skill. Then there was Monica. Monica Flannigan won in the 29th Hunger Games when she was fifteen, so she was only twenty-three. She one by wit, outsmarting everyone in the Games.

I was pondering who it was going to be when they walked up behind me.

"Welcome to Hell, piglets," he spoke.

Crap. It was Rainer.

"I…" I stuttered. "I work with rams…and chickens."

"Then I welcome you to Hell as well, chick. Let's get on this blasted train and get out of this bloody District."

Chick?

Dustin and I walked onto the train, and were immediately enchanted with smells and sights and wonders. We were escorted into our rooms for the day ride to the Capitol. Mine was a glorious, welcoming green, with a bed larger than my father's and mine put together, and many, many, pillows. And then there was the bathroom.

I had only taken a shower about five times in my life, all of those times including the freezing cold, pen worker shower and a lot of ram poop. I had bathed in warm water before, but it was nothing compared to this.

This was a walk-in shower, and with a touch of a button I was soaked in hot, heavenly goodness that washed away every trouble that I had in my being. Soap that smelled of sweet strawberries doused my body, and a strange yet wonderful scent washed away dirt from my hair. I came out of the shower feeling better than I had in my whole life.

Then I remembered I was in the Games.

I dressed in a dark blue top and pants, making sure to have my pretty white dress that I wore every year on the bed. I put my candle in my pocket, my bread and Evan's note in another. I still hadn;t read it. I pondered whether I had ought to, but then walked out of the room to greet the people I knew I would hate.

Lucy Finelar was standing next to Rainer, who had his hand on Dustin's shoulder. They were waiting for me. Crap.

We sat down to eat, and I never had a better meal in my life. I tried to eat slowly and almost prevailed…until the main course came. Some kind of roasted bird and venecin with gravy, potatoes and fruit and biscuits and soups! I ate it all.

When we had finished, both Dustin and I looking stuffed, Rainer leaned forward.

"So how are we going to do this?" he asked.

I had no clue. Do what? Training, the Games, our interviews, what?

Seeing the look on our faces Rainer sighed and asked, "How old are you guys?"

"Fifteen, sixteen in a month," Dustin replied.

If you live that long, I thought.

"Fourteen," I said.

"Good, good, young, alright. I'm not going to train you until we get to the Capitol, but I want you two to get to know each other. Alright?"

"Right," Dustin and me said at the same time, then we looked at each other. I looked down.

I didn't want to get to know this guy. I would have to kill him, even if indirectly, at some point or another. I stood up abruptly from the table and went into my temporary room, lying down on the bed. It was extremely comfy. I took out my bread, feeling so far away from my dad, from Giles, from my rams. I popped the biscuit in my mouth, and made a wish while it lay on my tongue. Then I swallowed it, savoring its delicious flavor.

It was very late when I was drifting to sleep. I was about to finally close my eyes completely when my door opened, and a figure stepped into my room. At first I didn't acknowledge it, and let my eyelashes brush my bottom lids. But then a hand went over my mouth.

I was awake very quickly. I struggled but the figure's strong hand kept me down. When I tried to scream he whispered, "Shush! I just didn't want to startle you!"

He had startled me.

I let myself calm down, but my eyes were still doe-like while he talked.

"I'm sorry about this. If I could have my way, you wouldn't have been chosen for this. You're strong and fast, but you won't survive. It's such a shame."

I looked at him, a hatred finding its way into my heart. I was angry. Very angry.

"I don't want to kill you, Ani, and I think I won't be able to, so I'm warning you now. Stay out of my way in the Games. Just do, please."

He let his hand release itself from my mouth, and I gasped, even though I could breathe the whole time. He grabbed my head, and kissed my forehead.

"If you weren't here, I would have been happy to come home as a Champion to you, or anyone else, really."

He walked to the door, opened it slightly, and said, "You're very pretty. Don't let me ruin that."

And then Dustin was gone, and I was left very confused.

OK so please R&R, and submit a tribute! This is not a first-come first-serve thing though. I will pick your tribute based on the creativity, reality, and variety of him/her. So here are the districts I need:

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12

If your tribute is not picked for a minor or major role then they will probably be a bloodbath tribute, please do not feel slighted if they do become one. If the end up not being tributes, but they probably will, they will be some other kind of character. I will not post the list, you'll have to read to find out, but that will be mostly in the next chapter. If I start to feel bored and continue with only a few tributes, please keep sending them in. Thanks!

ENTRY FORM (please be descriptive)

Name:

Age:

District:

Appearance:

Personality:

Weapon of Choice:

Other Weapons:

Chariot Outfit (optional):

Interview Outfit(optional):

Interview Quote:

Thank you and R&R!