A/N: All of the characters in this fanfic are my own, but it exists within the world of Suzanne Collins and the Hunger Games trilogy.

I've been working on this one for a while before publishing it on the site and it has my heart within its soul, so please, enjoy. Reply. Tell me what you think and rush me if I'm taking too long to come up with the next chapter. I swear, I don't mind. It helps to know you care.

The large blue water in front of me flows onto the soft land before my toes. The sun shines down on me delicately, covering every part of my body, its rays turning my light brown hair almost blonde.

I've never done anything like this before. The only water around here comes from the river at the edge of district, and no on is allowed in it, not that I haven't tried. I've always loved the idea of water. It's just so interesting. Everyone always says that I should have been from District 4. The only water we see here is what's in books and baths.

I giggle a little as I slowly step forward and the thin water laps over my toes. I continue to move forward until it sways at my knees. My smile grows with each step I take and soon I'm running into the wet liquid. I spin around with my arms out, almost like a giant pin wheel. I fall onto my back and the water lifts me above its surface, my hair swimming around below me freely. A small little fish swims over to me and tickles my toes. I laugh. I stand up, the water now above my waist, and slowly lower my head into the wet. All different kinds and colors of fish swim around me in perfect harmony. It's beautiful. It's unlike anything I have ever seen before.

I stay under for a while just looking at how they move, but eventually I come up. My eyelashes are weighed down by the water, so I quickly close my eyes and press the water from them.

When my eyes flutter open, the first thing I see is the sky. Its purple and pink swirls slowly fade into blue as the day peeks onto the horizon. I'm home. I slowly moan as my body wakes up, but then go quiet. The sun comes into focus and its delightful rays shine down onto my chill skin. Sleeping in the middle of an empty field wasn't the warmest idea, but it's a tradition.

Every year, the day before the reaping, they close everything down early so that the district can get some sleep before having to endure the frightful morning ahead. It was the day before Willow's first reaping and she was terrified. My brother, Oxford, had tried to tell her that her odds of her getting picked were as little as they could get, but that didn't seem to calm her nerves. Keld and I thought of everything that could possibly make her feel better, but we were at a disadvantage considering we hadn't even experienced the fear ourselves yet. It wasn't until I suggested sleeping in the fields that her face lit up. I had said it as just a joke, but I was in no position to deny her the only happy moment she had all week.

It was not that hard to get in. All we had to do was make sure not to draw attention to ourselves and climb over the fence, bringing a burlap sack to buffer the barbed wire. We had done way worse many times before. It was dark and the moonlight twinkled onto each piece of grass unlike I had ever seen before, like magic. Keld and Willow saw it too. We all found a bald spot in the grass together and just laid there, listening to the beautiful silence of the district.

The next year, when it was the day before mine and Keld's first reaping, we came back. Once again, we sat under the moonlit sky and watched as the stars popped out from the dark blue night. Together it was not as scary. Together we were not alone.

My body is curled up next to Keld's, my head resting on his warm broad chest. I slowly circle my thumb along his thin cotton shirt and continue to gaze up at the sky. I cannot move the rest of me. Willow's head lays in the crook of my knees, the ends of her natural red hair tickling my legs. Her pale eyelids lay perfectly shut as she continues to sustain her endless slumber. She has never had a problem with sleeping.

I remember the time we snuck into one of the farms late at night to retrieve her locket. It had accidentally fallen off when she put her hair up to practice milking cows at a field trip that day. I asked her why she didn't go back for it when she realized it was gone, and even though I didn't believe her reason, I went anyways. We were halfway to the room when a light poked out from across the dark barn. Our eyes grew big as we searched around for somewhere to hide and we ducked behind a large pile of grains. We knew that if a peacekeeper found us, we would be dragged out by our hair to the whipping post. Trespassing into the farms, after hours, is illegal. We both stayed there quietly as he inspected the room for an hour. By the time I turned around, Willow was snuggling a bag of grains like a pillow—totally asleep.

I smile slightly and Keld begins to move under me. His dark brown eyes blink tiredly before directing themselves towards me.

"Good morning," he grins.

"Good morning," I smile back. It is a beautiful day. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay," he sighs. He moves up so he is resting on his lifted elbows and I move accordingly, so that I don't wake Willow. My head still lays on his chest and he kisses the top of it. He smiles. "What time is it?"

I look up at the sky just enough to see the last glimpse of purple before the never ending blue consumes it.

"I'd say around seven, maybe six thirty."

He puts his arm around me, and I fix myself before settling back into his warm chest. I'm still a bit chilly. His warm body acts like a stirring fire against, warming my body and flushing my cheeks. Willow shifts a few minutes later, the drug of sleep releasing from her body. She sits up and I soon do the same. She runs her nimble fingers through her long smooth red hair and rubs her well-rested eyes.

"Um, I slept good," she moans, gently.

"You always do," Keld and I laugh.

She frowned. "Well it was still good."

I creep into the house quietly, making sure to put pressure on the door so that it doesn't squeak like usual. Everyone in the house is asleep. Oxford lays on the couch. His mouth sits open as he releases mild snores. My parents are in their room with baby Eve, the other boys in their room, and the girls in ours. Aroa always loves the night before the reaping because she gets her own bed for a night, not having to share it with me. She is the only one that knows I sneak out, although I have my suspicions that Oxford is catching onto the whole charade.

I tiptoe across the room to our small kitchenette and fill a few pots with water before setting them to boil. I then move over to the adjacent corner of the room, slide the makeshift sheet wall that hangs from a sort of indoor clothesline to hide the tub, and fill it up halfway with water from the sink. I grab a towel from the tiny little bathroom and set it next to the half full tub. The water starts to bubble on the stove so I quickly pour it into the chill bath, making sure not to burn myself, and the water evens out to warm.

I drop my tired dirty blue dress from my body and let it puddle at my feet on the floor. I release my feet from the sandals they occupy and dip my toes into the water before settling my body into the liquid completely. Oxford starts to stir from across the room and I quietly reach for the homemade bar of soap, to wash myself.

It is such a relief to rid myself of the dirt and soil that previously lingered on my skin's surface. The sweet smell of Myrtle engulfs me. Soon, I submerge my head into the water and my long hazelnut brown hair swims around freely. I slowly lift my head up and out of the water, relaxing my arms on the edges of the tub. I stay like that for a while, until my fingers are noticeably shriveled. That is when I hear Oxford yawn and remove himself from the couch.

"Mari, are you done yet?" he moans, tiredly.

"Just give me a second," I reply, stepping out from the now cool water. I tentatively wrap the towel around me after making sure to dry my wrinkled toes. My long wet hair drips on the floor a little as I make my way past his shirtless form. "You may have to add some more boiled water. I think it's gone cold."

"Doesn't it always after you've taken your turn?" he jokes.

I tiptoe into my room to find Aroa fully awake and laying pleasantly in bed while Forsythia, the usual morning bell, is practically knocked unconscious. I smile sweetly at her young innocent face. Long blonde curls lay almost stuck to her forehead.

"Oxford is almost done with his bath," I say, looking toward Aroa.

"It's all the same to me. I might as well not clean up at all," she pouts, and I give into her pull for attention, a stubborn sullen look tugging at her lips.

"And why is that?"

"My first flowers spoiled my dress last year, the only one not permanently stained with dirt that I own," she insists, turning her face away from me, relishing her gloom.

I smile simply at her. "I think I have something. Just go wash up," I suggest. "I'll help you with your hair."

She sighs, "Okay," walking out the door with a limp.

The room is a faded mauve color, the paint chipping and yellowing like old tattered wallpaper. The furniture all belongs to different sets of hand-me-downs from family members. My great grandmother's old mirror hangs over the dresser on the wall. It's a small little thing. Its circled edges are bordered with floral molding. The mirror itself has not been cleaned in years. Dust and smudges cover the reflective surface so that one can only see clearly through the middle of it. I look into the bright hazel eyes reflected in front of me. They stay wide open with fear as I glance at their sparkling specks.

I take a deep breath. This is my first year without Oxford.

Just the thought of it makes me nervous.

My dresser is easier to open than usual. The rotting wood has stopped its slow deterioration for the summer, all moisture being absent from the air at the moment. I lift the drawer and pull it towards me, the insides hitting together as I do, pulling out a dusty old dress that hasn't seen the light of day since 365 days ago. I lay it out on the bed and move back to the drawer, rummaging around for the proper undergarments. My typical flimsy well over-washed lace will not do. I secure the pale pink bodice around my ribcage and pull the loosened elastic up my shoulders, allowing the subtle wiring to hold up its belongings in the proper manner. It matches my dress and underwear.

The long drips of my hair endings still trill onto the faded lace from my cleavage as Aroa's damp steps traipse along the dirty hard wood, leaving mild puddles of dust and mud in her wake. She sits on the bed, running the tattered cloth along her legs before tying it up in her hair, revealing her nakedness.

"So, what is this magical dress I seem to have never heard of," she says, bitterly, but I ignore her tone and purse my lips, walking back to my dresser and pulling out the newest thing I own.

It's a rose hued dress, the soft flattering fabric reaching just below one's knees. It tapers at the waist and hugs one's breasts at its side seams modestly to a wide but high scooped neck along the collarbone. It's entirely perfect, a pair of pale pink pointed heels sitting in my bottom drawer, smooshed tightly into the crannies of my other comparatively tattered clothes.

"Where did you get that?" she gasps.

I smile, holding it out in front of her. "Mama bought it for me for the party next week," I explain. "Her and Papa have been talking to Columbus' parents about him courting me this summer, considering he already has a job set up at the Butcher House and is set to inherit his uncle's wash shop in his old age."

"He must really like you," she laughs, taking it into her hands. "This fabric must have cost a week for Papa."

I smirk a bit and fish out a pair of undergarments for herself. "He's just a friend," I assure. "But, I can't live here forever. Eve is going to need my bed soon enough, unless you want it to be the four of us sharing this room."

"Won't Mama get mad at you for giving it to me?"

"Probably, but I can handle it. Plus, it'll bring out the pink in your cheeks," I say, pinching them slightly. She scowls mildly and steps into the dress, my fingers pulling the crisply sewn zipper up her back. She is beautiful.

I step into my own dress, the black tulle underneath swishing on the ground as I step both feet into its waist holding, pulling it up my legs. The hem hangs a few inches above my knees as I flush my arms into their slightly fluffed elbow-length sleeves, the entire thing ridden with tiny pink azaleas and their corresponding stems. I press the neckline to my chest as she secures the matching upholstered buttons, holding the fabric flush to my body, watching as it secures over my waist and subtle cleavage.

I pick a single daisy from the plant Willow and I dug up from beyond the fence, roots and all, three years prior, keeping it next to my window to flourish under the district sun, using a pin to secure it behind my ear. I look in the mirror again and sigh slightly, still not able to get the worry off my face.

What if I get picked?

I take another deep breath and think back to my first reaping. Oxford told me that I had nothing to worry about, that he was going to be in the crowd waiting for me. That's not going to happen this year. Even though I'm 17, this being my fifth reaping, I'm terrified. The thought of him not being there makes my mouth go dry.

Forsythia gets up and toddles over to my parents room with her little rag of a blanket in hand, leaving the door open a crack, the hum of chatter from the kitchen drifting into the room.

Aroa sits down on our bed with her legs crossed nervously, waiting for my delicate fingers to intertwine with her hair. I grab a large section of hair from above her ear and begin to braid her hair into a across her forehead and around her head, almost like a crown, twisting her thick light brown hair between my fingers, leaving only fly-aways to grace her un-freckled neck. It's nearly dry by the time I'm finished, leaving her doe eyed and blushing. She gets up and looks in the mirror. I don't think I have ever seen her this happy.

I smile at her from above. "You look beautiful," I say.

She turns to me. "You do too. Everyone in the district thinks so. You should hear all of the boys at school."

"Well, you should hear all of them after today, after seeing you," I tease, pulling her back to the bed for a couple of finishing touches. I pinch her cheeks lightly and rub a strawberry I snuck from the market the day before on her lips, turning them both sweetly pink. "Mama and Papa will have too many discussions of courtships to count with you."

She laughs and I pull her into a small hug before parting to the kitchen.

Oh, how I hope things go well today.

It's almost time for the bell to ring as Willow steps through the door. I rush over to her for a quick hug. Hilt and Remy walk out of their room now fully dressed. They wear matching brown corduroy pants with beige button-up shirts and rolled up cuffs. Remy's light brown hair swoops slightly to the side so that it is partially in his face. His dark brown eyes show almost no emotion. Hilt's face looks ashen. He's a bit worried about today. It's his first reaping. Both of them sit down at the small table to eat their boiled oats.

I walk over to Hilt. "You look very handsome," I say, trying to cheer him up. He smiles only slightly at my comment.

I lean over his hanging head and wrap my arms around his sagging shoulders. My chin rests on his long dark brown curls before leaning down to kiss the top of it. I hug him closer as I feel a tear fall from his face onto my forearm.

"I know your worried," I whisper, softly in his ear. "But you have nothing to be anxious about. Nothing is going to happen." I kiss his head again to reassure him. He intakes slightly, trying to hide his worry from me. I swing my head around so it's in the crook of his neck and my eyes are staring at his. "I'll make sure of it."

He continues to eat his boiled oats in silence.

I lean both of my tired elbows on the table now pulled in front of the couch for breakfast, and steal a few bites of Oxford's ration of oats. He stands in the corner of the room, talking to Willow. His golden hazel eyes look onto her longingly, but hers cannot even glance towards his. It's too hard. She knows better than to give into his hidden wishes.

It was an especially sunny day in the district. Everyone was dripping sweat and fanning themselves with whatever they could find lying around. It was dreadful. Willow and Oxford held hands, despite the scorching heat making his hand's grip cover her dainty palms in a film of perspiration. The sun beat its rays onto both of them, pinking Willow's fragile scalp as they stood in front of the district's main milking barn. The two older grades always go to the main district settlements to research the different trades, even though most kids by that age already have jobs to help support their families.

The barn was hot and filled with tired sweaty people looking just about ready to pass out. A few of them did. Their unconscious bodies were carried out by the callused hands of two other milkers. A few women walked around swatting the flies that seemed to buzz around each cows buttock. Everyone grabbed a large metal bucket, pushed their sleeves up, and pulled back their hair before draining the cow in front of them.

By the time they stopped it was time to go home for lunch. Everyone in the barn filtered out and headed home for their meal break. She reached to toy with her necklace, like she always does when she's bored, and it wasn't there.

She made her way back into the barn. The entrance hallway was dark and dry, not a soul in sight. There was a loud creak that startled her. She looked around, but saw nothing. She heard the creak again. It was coming from a nearby room. A door was propped open a few inches. Curious, she stepped towards it and saw Oxford up against the wall, kissing the neck of a girl whose limbs were wrapped around his waist.

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she tore them away from the heartbreaking scene. And, with that, she ran as fast as she could to my house, waiting hours for me to come home in the scorching heat, dreading the alternative.

She was numb by the time I found her, eyes pierced into the clouded air, watching each particles movement in stillness, even the sweat stopping cold on her skin. I tried to comfort her, but she would not tell me what happened. We just sat there still, waiting for a breeze to grace the air.

The next day Willow walked to school alone.

Everyone stood in their lines in the yard before the peacekeepers opened the doors, like usual. Her hair was braided up, but he still noticed her red flickers, weaving from his spot to her within the blind spots of those in white.

"Hey, why didn't you wait for me this today?" he asked, in hushed tones, concerned. "I thought something happened to you. You disappeared yesterday and Mari wouldn't tell me anything. I was worried out of my mind." He stood in line beside her, looking foreword, but reached for her hand.

She pulled away. "We can't do this anymore," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek, discreetly.

"Do what?" he said, innocently confused by the situation.

"You can't keep courting me. I'm done," she said, following her line into the building, peacekeepers on both sides of the entrance, but he still slipped in behind her, getting dirty looks from the students around them.

"Why? What's changed? Tell me what to do," he begged, in a whispering tone.

"Nothing," she choked, almost silently. "I saw you in the barn yesterday."

His face fell immediately. He knew exactly what she meant.

"Look, it meant nothing to me. She means nothing to me," he insisted, sliding into the desk next to her, leaving a girl with a bouncy ponytail anxious and standing. He reached out to hold her hand and this time she didn't resist, too exhausted.

"That's what worries me," she said, softly, not lifting her eyes from the recently sanded rotting over wood. "The fact that being with someone else like that means nothing to you."

"That's not what I meant," he sighed, softening his voice. He was falling apart right in front of her.

"Being with each other, it shouldn't be like this. You shouldn't have to cheat—"

"I don't. I never should have done it. It was a mistake. Please, don't do this!" he pleaded.

"We're just not happy," she pleaded, eyeing the peacekeepers at the doorway. They were staring at her.

"I am happy."

"No, you're not, and that's okay," she said, still anxiously watching as they approach him them, dragging him from his stolen seat, pulling him out by his arms as he tried to assure her of his love, screaming. "I forgive you."

The bell rings and I can feel a gulp in the throat of everyone from the district, all in unison. I take a deep breath and pat my skirt nervously. My father comes up behind me and kisses my cheek reassuringly.

He's a tall man with light skin and buzzed dark brown hair. His body is toned and his broad shoulders keep his back straight, despite his hours bent over at the farm. He's almost never home because of it, working sunrise to sunset to support us. His eyes look like muddy dollops left on his face. When I was little, he used to joke that they were like that because he craved too much chocolate as a kid. He wears a white button-up shirt and large khaki pants secured with a deep brown belt.

"You'll be fine. You've always been my strong girl," he smiles. His strong arms wrap aground my torso. "Watch out for your siblings and we'll meet you here afterwards."

I nod. "Okay."

The twins walk slowly towards the door, like any sudden movement might trigger an explosion, Aroa's almost cheery expression from earlier gone. Their heads hang and blank expressions occupy their faces as her and Remy leave. Hilt still sits at the table.

"Come on, bud," I say, persuading him to follow our predicted path. He takes a deep intake of breath and slowly rises. His mouth lays in a grim line, trying not showing his horrid emotions. He's scared. We all are.

I reach, in silence, to hold his hand. He glances at our interlocked fingers and I can see him visibly relax.

Dirt flies around the unpaved road like a whirlpool. It sticks to our skin like plaster and dirties our best clothes.

It always does.

Anxious children of all ages surround me, biting their nails and squeezing each other's hands, numb with fear. Willow and I walk towards the Main Square with Hilt beside me, staying close.

Her face grows even paler as the wind hits its surface, head on. The strands of her long naturally red locks spread as it flows through the weightless air. The open back of her pastel pink dress parts like curtains on a perfect sunny day. Elastic between the fabric synchs her waist together perfectly. The hem flitters up and down around her knees.

Keld is sitting on the steps of his house, his bent legs resting on the aging wood beneath him. Every crack in its exterior is filled with sand and underbrush. A large porch stands tall by the front door with Keld's hammock taking up half of it. He lets his mother take the bedroom. It's been hard ever since his dad was killed. A bull beat out his lungs to death when Keld was only ten years old.

Four years ago, his mother got sick. No one knows what it is, still. Her bones grew soft and prominent. Her skin became thin as paper. She limped when she walked and lived in pain. Last year it got really bad. He didn't leave her side for a month. She was one of the few in the country that were allowed to stay home for the reaping. That's when they finally had to scrounge up enough money for a doctor. She's getting better, finally back to just her regular limp.

His hands are knotted at his mouth, hiding his slacked lips. He wears dark green coteries and a grey button-up shirt with pushed up sleeves to show his toned arms. As we get closer, I can hear the mild moans from inside. He looks up and sees us, waving slightly in our general direction before going to hug his aching mother goodbye. A friendly neighbor is walking her down later.

"Hey. How is she?" I ask, as he makes his way towards us.

He sighs. "Okay. There's definitely been better days, but she's good enough to come, this year."

"Baby steps," I say, encouraging him to stay positive.

He smiles slightly and gives me a hug, something I greatly need. I don't let it show, though. Hilt is still right next to me, though his hand has drifted away.

"Hey, Hilt. How's it going?" Keld asks, scuffing up his hair playfully, trying to lighten the mood and direct the conversation away from himself.

"Okay," he lies.

"Yeah, you don't have anything to worry about. You're name's only in there once. You, my friend, just get to sit back afterwards and enjoy the party. I saved you each a chocolate for before we head over to Reed's house. A bunch of kids from school are invited," he says. "And so are we," he adds, smiling wide, really trying to sell it.

Hilt's lips split slightly as well and I take a deep breath. Thank G-d.

A/N: I tend to make reference to some of my minor characters in my other fanfics (and vice versa) so that you can get a better sense of who they are, so feel free to check out Clove or Innocent In Water or Flightless Birds if you want more.