Johanna closed her eyes and let it wash over her again, just as she did every Thursday at sunrise. The soft breeze in her face, the sound of waves falling against the sand, and the unmatched scent of pine mingling with salt air.
This was her favorite part of the week, where she went in her mind when work grew too toilsome or talk of the Capital became too irksome. She must have swung her axe at least a few thousand times with the song of waves breaking against the shore playing in her mind.
Today was a bit different though. The day before the reaping was always different. It always held its own sense of dread. Johanna wondered who it might be this year. After today she would only have one year left for her name to be entered, but that was never really what she thought about. Instead, she wondered if it would be someone she knew, someone she cared about.
The chances of it being her were so slim. She never entered her name in extra. The chance of it being her family - well, Harris was done. Last year was the last time he had to participate. But there were still her two younger siblings. Benjamin was fourteen, Kara only twelve. Johanna was smart; she knew the math. Their family would almost certainly be spared, so she pushed away the stab of fear in her chest.
But she could no longer push away the dread for the one whose name would be drawn. Not hers. Not her brother or sister's. But someone's. Someone she and Harris worked with. Or maybe one of Benjamin's friends from the mill.
There was a time when Johanna had tried her best to ignore the Reaping altogether, but she had learned all too well how pointless that was. She remembered that Thursday, two years ago, like it was yesterday.
—
"Will you still come?"
"What?" Johanna yawned lazily, Tara's question not quite breaking the early-morning fog.
"If something happens, if they call my name, will you still come here?"
Johanna sighed. She wanted to tell Tara to stop saying things like that. Of course her name was not going to be drawn. They would go to the Reaping, just like every year, and then they would leave, try to forget, and move on. But she knew her friend too well to dismiss her fears. That would only hurt her. So, instead of offering the sharp retort that had made its way halfway up her throat, Johanna swallowed her temper and placed her hand over Tara's smaller one.
"Would you want me to?" Johanna hated asking, because it gave credence, validation to the possibility that Tara might not join her any more on their weekly quest.
Tara didn't answer at first, but she flipped her hand over to interlace her fingers with Johanna's. She was still facing the fog over the ocean tide when she finally answered her friend's question.
"Yes. Every Thursday. For sunrise."
"OK."
"But if you come through the night, then you should remember to always bring your axe, just in case. You always forget."
Johanna rolled her eyes but kept her voice level. "Alright. I promise."
"And I'll meet you here-"
Johanna cut her off. "Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Tara." She allowed herself a bite to her tone, because she could see that Tara was grinning now.
"What?," she teased her, "You wouldn't want me to come back to watch over you?"
"Watch over me?" Johanna huffed. "More like haunt me. You'd be the most impossible ghost. 'Shouldn't you head back now?', 'You'll be late for work.', 'Why don't you wear that dress your mother made you?'"
Tara shook her head in an effort to disapprove of the mockery, but she couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you don't believe in ghosts or spirits, so you shouldn't be too worried."
Johanna smile faded a little. "If anyone has a soul though, it'd be you."
Johanna wasn't sure, but she thought her friend blushed slightly. She stood up too quickly for her to tell.
"As much as I hate to give credence to your mimicry, we really should head back. The Peacekeepers will come in soon."
Johanna yawned again as she stood up to follow her friend back into the pines.
—
The reverie broke with the faint sound of a barking seal, and Johanna's head snapped up to see a small group at the water's edge. Her lips slipped into a smile. Tara would have loved this. They had only spotted them a few times before, and Johanna had only seen one once since the day of the Reaping two years ago. They were such a rarity.
She knew it was best to head back now. It would take at least two hours to make the trip.
Her mother had asked her to wait till tomorrow - it made her nervous for Johanna to go out the night before the Reaping. But Harris had slipped his arm around their mother's shoulders, and her father had nodded his approval when she said she had to leave. After all, she had promised.
With one last, deep inhale and a final glance at the seals playing in the waves, Johanna reached over for her axe and stood to leave. She hadn't gone far beyond the tree-line this morning. She had had the peculiar feeling that if she stepped onto the sand, then she would never be able to bring herself to go back.