Author's Note: Hi everyone. My name is Omarou and this is my first fanfic. I always enjoyed reading Hunger Games Stories with single OC viewpoints and one day it struck me: Why don't I write my own story? Eventually, after much brainstorming, my thoughts gave birth to A Dirge for Courage. I hope you all take the time to read it and please review/comment. All negative feedback is welcomed. I must inform you all that this story may take a long time to finish as I also have a life (yes really I do) which involves a job, university, sports, family etc as well as the fact that a writer needs inspiration which can take time to strike. Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. That honor belongs to Suzanne Collins. Anway, without further ado, I give you A Dirge for Courage!
Prologue
Deep in the recesses of District 1, home of luxuries and ornaments of the Capitol, a young boy was running frantically down one of the many side-alleys of the city. The signs of death and decay caused by malnourishment were already clear on his body despite his youth. His cheekbones were clearly visible and his ever-shifting, hazel eyes seemed to be shrunken into his face. As he sprinted down the shadowy and winding path, his dark, long hair whipped around his face and he gasped furiously, desperately trying to fuel his burning lungs with oxygen to escape his pursuers. The pursuers in question were three large men, each of whom carried large batons which boded ominously for the boy. Their eyes burned with fury and their hands clenched in eagerness to punish this fool who had dared to rob them.
The boy, whose name was Talon, took two right turns and one left before ducking into a small back-alley which was illuminated only by a dim fog light. He collapsed against the wall and slid with his back along it, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. As he was trying to recover, he held up the small loaf of bread that he had managed to sneak out of the bakery to his eyes and reflected on the heavy price that he would pay for stealing it if the men found him. He had gone around the whole District during the day, but could not find any place that was going to be easy enough for him to rob without being detected. Finally, Talon had settled on thieving from the local bakery which, in itself, was problematic. The owner of the shop was rumored to be a vicious low-life who commonly dealt in illegal goods and used his bakery as a cover up for his real work. Naturally, Talon was hesitant to steal from such a man, but desperate circumstances required desperate measures which lead to his stealing the bread for which the men were chasing him. The bread itself was not particularly appetizing or nutritious. To the contrary, it was hard and cold, but, seeing as Talon hadn't eaten in days, he wasn't going to pass it up. He ripped the bread into small chunks and ravenously stuffed it in his mouth, all the while carefully keeping watch for the men who were sent to track him down. Suddenly, the sound of rough voices arguing resounded in the narrow alleys from whence he had come. He trembled as he felt the cold hand of fear tighten around his heart and he began to move silently backwards out of the alley.
"Where do you think he went?" rasped a rough, nasal voice.
"Where do you think, you fool? He obviously ran here so he could lose us in these side streets. These filthy street rats know everything about these dirty, dank places." snapped an irate, cold voice. "Spread out the both of you and search every place you can think of, until you find the little bastard."
"And once we do find him?" said a third voice, barely keeping the excitement he was feeling at the prospect of beating a young boy out of his tone.
"Well, let's just say he'll be wishing he had died of starvation instead of stealing from me." replied the second voice which obviously belonged to the leader of this trio as well as the brains of the outfit.
Talon gulped at their words and began to quicken his exit from the alley when, all of a sudden, his foot caught on a trash can cover. The metal made a shrill screeching sound as it scraped against the floor which he immediately knew would echo throughout the alleyways.
"That must be the boy!"
"Don't just stand there you idiots, go, run, get him!"
Talon knew by then that there was no point in him hiding anymore and broke out into a full out sprint. His muscles burned and screamed from the exertions but he could not stop. If those men caught him…it would not matter how young or pitiful he looked. They would beat him like a dog and leave him for dead.
"There he is! Get him!" shouted the first, rough voiced man just as Talon approached the mouth of the alley and safety. Outside of these alleys, they could not hurt him in front of the public of District 1. The citizens would not prevent them from punishing Talon for stealing, but they would at least stop them from beating him to a bloody pulp.
With hope rising in his chest, Talon pumped his legs harder to get away from the men and on to safety. Even the pain in his legs had faded as adrenaline seared through his veins and numbed his body to pain. It even seemed to him as if the exit to the alley was shining. As if God had sent him a sign that he would be protected and safe from harm if he just managed to reach that small exit.
Thud. A fist slammed into his stomach just as he was about to exit the alleys and escape into the crowds that were just outside. Talon was sent reeling across the alley floor and began to retch as the effects of the fight-or-flight response began to ebb away.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the little street brat who thought that he could steal from me without facing any consequences." drawled the man who had struck him and, based on Talon's inability to move his chest, broken at least two of his ribs. "Don't you know that stealing is punishable by maiming here in District 1? By law, I can chop off the upper arm of your favored side, you rat."
Talon's mouth dried up and he gulped in fear as he imagined himself living without his right hand. Instinctively, he buried it in the folds of his filthy, brown shirt in a feeble attempt to conceal it from the man in front of him. He had seen men who had stolen and been punished. In District 1, they were not only handicapped physically, but socially as well. No one would trade or hire a person who had stolen due to the social stigma of associating with a criminal. Talon knew that if that happened to him, the very little he had in life would quickly ebb away and he would die in less than a week.
"Please sir, I didn't want to steal. It's just that...It…It's been so long since I ate that I was starving and I couldn't help myself…."
Smack. Talon was silenced by a vicious, backhanded slap by the man in front of him.
"Shut up, you runt! You think I care about you and your hunger? I don't even care about that lousy piece of bread that you took. No. What bothers me is that you thought you could just waltz into my shop and take whatever you pleased. You filthy street rats are all the same, always trying to take me for all that I have. Well not anymore. 'Cause when the others see what's happened to you, they'll think a hundred times before even coming near my shop." As he was saying this, the two men who had been chasing had crept up behind him, grabbed his arms and forced him to his knees.
Talon's heart sank to his stomach as the man in front of him pulled out a small switch knife and began whistling to himself as he approached him. Talon kicked and flailed, begged and pleaded, shouted and screamed, all to no avail. Now that he was close enough to see the maniacal look in the mafioso's eyes, he knew that there had been no hope, no point in begging at all. This man was a clear sadist from the joy that was emanating in his eyes and the smile that graced his lips as he looked upon Talon.
"From now on, no thief will ever dare to approach my shop after they see what's happened to you. Nobody even cares what happens to you street brats so this works out perfectly for everyone." Without warning, the man quickly slashed his blade along the left side of Talon's face, from the side of his eye, down to his chin. Talon screamed and screamed, unable to feel anything but a searing, agonizing fire on the left side of his face. Dimly, he felt himself fall to the ground as he clutched his face and saw crimson blood coat his hands. He could hear the men saying something and laughing as they walked away, leaving him for dead. He sobbed silently as he tried to stem the blood flowing from his face with his shirt, but it would not stop. For every river he wiped off of his face, an ocean would quickly replace it. He could feel himself slowly fading away and he registered that the blood loss was going to make him fall unconscious. As he drifted away, he saw an angel, brilliantly illuminated with holy light, reaching out, cradling him and raising him off the dank, dirty alley floor before he fell unconscious.