Chapter 1: No Such Thing as Coincidence
Before she was even born all those seventeen years ago, the annual tradition of the Games had already been established. For every District of packs, there were two members chosen at random to participate in a gruesome battle used as entertainment for the Capitol Alphas, where each kid was forced to fight one another until one out of the twenty-four arose as the Victor. If you made it back, you were given permission to lead your own pack, regardless of previous pack status.
Some said it was a way for the Capitol to assert their dominance over the Districts and prove that they were in control, while others always told her it was a way for the select few to connect with their primal sides like many others didn't get to do, due to the Peacekeepers who led a majority of the packs in each District. There was something about the strict rules of survival that brought forth the wolves in anyone who entered in the Arena, which according to the Capitol, made for a more riveting show. It was sickening whenever they were forced to watch the video feed from the Arena, staring helplessly as kids were slaughtered, some she knew; the only thing that was ever able to compare to the emotional havoc brought on by the Games, was the moment just before: the Reaping.
It had been two years since her older brother Gareth was reaped and sent into the Arena, and she could vividly remember the experience as if it were only an hour before. Standing there in anticipation, surrounded by a herd of other people with an identical level of anxiety, it had been practically hard to breathe. Crammed into a small group of teenage girls, she had watched the Representative gallivant across the stage constructed in the middle of District Four's largest fish market, as it was every year, and pluck a name card from the female bowl. Some poor, little Omega was dragged onto stage from the fourteen year old crowd and put on the spot next to the eccentric Capitol Alpha.
District Four had very few Alphas, as did any District below Two, for most were kept in the Capitol or sent to the Career Academy to train as Peacekeepers. Betas were more common, and Omegas made up a majority of each lower District's population, but when it came to the Games against One and Two skillfully-trained Alphas, rarely did any lower-ranked pack members make it back to their families. The deaths were often brutal since many Alphas enjoyed setting their wolves free on their prey for more Sponsors, but for those Games, none of her family was meant to get picked.
There was a silent agreement between the Capitol and her family that their names were never to be brought up with the public, for fear that past actions could spark rebellion from others in the future. So standing there, helpless, as the long red nails of the District's Representative pulled a name card from the bunch, only to have her read the name of her brother had her heart thudding wildly in her chest. "Gareth Rivendell."
"Farrah?" a small voice called from the doorway, causing the girl to shoot up from bed in haste. Eliminating any signs of a threat after her eyes searched widely, she relaxed, a tender set of fingers rubbing her forehead as the short frame of a little girl slipped through the cracked doorway.
"Yes, Marigold?" It wasn't hard to tell who it was after picking up the familiar scent of sun flowers that always managed to follow the girl everywhere, even the hint of sea salt all people of District Four carried couldn't douse it out. "Can I sleep here tonight?" Using the thin bit of light streaming in from the slightly-opened door, Farrah could see the shadow of a bruise forming across one of Marigold's cheeks, her stump arm cradled in the other.
"What happened this time?" She sat up on the small bed, leaving enough room for the little Omega to crawl closer near her feet, but the two didn't position themselves for sleep, instead they sat with Marigold's back facing Farrah while her fingers ran delicately through the mess of golden curls on the little one's head.
"Dad came home late again. He started making lots of noise in the kitchen which woke Mom up, and the two started fighting. He hit her…I was just trying to stop him…" A quiet sob had Marigold shivering, even under the blanket Farrah carefully wrapped around her.
Many found Farrah's sympathy for the disabled Omega strange, especially given she was a rare Alpha female, but the older teen avoided everyone's gaze when it came to Marigold. Omegas were already belittled for their status; most higher-ranks referred to the group as worthless laborers, but with a half-deformed arm, this young twelve year-old was put through far worse.
It was common knowledge to Farrah that Marigold's parents had both hoped for a Beta, and that it be a boy, so when receiving her they were a little more than let down. Though that was absolutely no excuse to treat her like they do, Farrah could never find a way to get her out of such a situation due to her age. Marigold was tied to a pack run by one of the District's Peacekeepers while Farrah was born into a pack headed by a deceased Victor's son, and there wasn't any way to separate someone from their pack unless given permission from the Capitol, but you had to be above Reaping age in order to even have a chance of switching.
It irritated her to no end, and each time another bruise showed up in Marigold's pale complexion, she was tempted to march right down to the household and teach the girl's parents a lesson; being an Alpha had its perks, especially when it came to your rank in the community and the orders you could give, but with it, there were also consequences.
Gareth had been a Beta. No one could ever figure out how the Alpha gene had been passed onto the first female born instead of the first male, but there was no reversing it; Gareth simply had to earn the rights on his own, and he had been so close. It was painful, to relive the memories of his passing, but with each annual Games came the ghosts and shadows that followed. Normally this time of the year was when everyone was allowed to grieve; even more so if a family had lost a child to the Games, but none of that time was used for its intended purpose when it came to Farrah. She was utterly disgusted with the Capitol and all the Alphas that inhabited it, but the Reaping was the one time when everyone was vulnerable – when everybody had something to lose, and it proved to be torture the day Gareth was chosen.
"I know what you're thinking," Marigold piped up in front of her, turning roughly to keep the covers intact but still manage eye contact at the same time. The small glimpse of sadness in the Alpha's usually blank gaze had the small girl moving closer, a weak smile pulling at her lips. "He's still watching over you, you know? You and Bran."
It amazed Farrah how such a beaten twelve year-old could still find the spirit to encourage others; just thinking about it had her fingers gently tugging at one of the golden curls near Marigold's ear. "I don't think Bran sees it that way," her voice was quiet, hushed, unlike any other time she spoke, and it was only Marigold who had ever seen her this way.
"Brannock isn't an idiot. He knows what is right, and no matter what he may convey there is always going to be a part of him that is concerned about you." Hope filled her tiny blue eyes, and it unknowingly had a grin stretching Farrah's lips while she settled them in for the night.
"You need sleep little one. We have one more day, and then there will be another Reaping." The word tasted bitter on her tongue, and she was almost about to spit in disgust when a small nose nuzzled in between her shoulder blades as she laid on her side. The gesture was unfamiliar, normally they slept a distance apart, but the change was welcome. She didn't quite know it yet, but Farrah would need that moment of comfort much more than she would come to realize.
The morning started off the same, preparing for work with a small breakfast before seeing Brannock off to his own job down at the pier. After nights spent with Farrah, Marigold would often accompany her to work also, to learn the skills necessary for work in District Four, not that the older teen ever minded. The company was also welcome, considering she spent the long hours of her days in a small boat all by herself reeling in hooks attached to a long line that surrounded the shore.
After pushing the old wooden raft out into the water, Farrah loaded all that was necessary on board while challenging Marigold to see if she could climb up on her own. Today the child seemed to possess more strength in her full arm than she did most days, and pulled herself into the seat at the end of the short boat, already balancing an empty basket in her lap, ready for the fish.
Now in the light, the bruise on Marigold's cheek was visible and stretched from under her left eye to the end of cheek bone. Anger was Farrah's immediate response, and without being able to do anything on the small piece of wood, she heaved herself into her work. Before either of them knew it, the sun was starting to set, and the basket that was once empty held at least a dozen fish.
Ripping the hook from another's fish jaw, she threw it back to Marigold behind her, ignoring the pain that tore into her shoulders as she leant back over to start pulling the line again. Countless scars covered Farrah's flesh, from the numerous scrapes on her feet caused by the hooks laying around the boat's deck, to the deep gashes where full hooks had gotten caught in her hands or arms. Most of them were from her first days aboard, she rarely even nicked herself now, but the little reminders stood out for all to see when she wasn't wearing things to hide them. None of them would even exist if she hadn't had to start working for the fishing companies of District Four, but that was too long of a story to indulge in at the current moment.
"It looks like it's going to storm," Marigold sounded from her seat, staring narrowly at the sky now overcome with dark rain clouds. "That it does," Farrah released with a heavy breath, "We should start on our way back. Tie up the basket, and help me drop the line." Their routine together was flawless, for both of the girls knew what to do as they'd done it countless times, and they were able to return to shore before the first drop of rain had hit the ground. Once logging their numbers in for the day with the men at the docks, the two started in the direction of housing on the other side of the District.
"What do you think will happen tomorrow Farrah?"
There it was, the question she had been dreading, and the look crossing Marigold's face made it clear she needed to find a satisfactory answer in order to keep the little one from worrying too much. "You won't get picked. This is your first time ever being entered, and your chances are already slim to none." She meant it. As far as she knew, Marigold had only been entered one time since it was her first Reaping; there was an extremely small chance she would get picked, but even then, she would not set foot in the Arena, Farrah would make sure of it.
"What about you? There's always the chance you or Bran get picked too." A heavy knot settled in her stomach at the other girl's words; of course she knew there was a chance she could get picked, or even her younger brother, but the thought was not an easy one, and she didn't like to entertain it either. Besides, the Capitol was avoiding her family, ever since that Everdeen girl and her District partner stirred up such a controversy with last year's Games, they didn't need anyone else causing trouble with the media. Rumors of a rebellion had been passed from District to District, and with just a little more incentive, one might think a full-blown war could be awaiting them in the near future. Though currently, everything was the same.
"All will be fine Marigold. There is no need to worry." Taking her small hand for reassurance, Farrah grinned a bit more in sincerity, "And if, for some strange reason, you do get picked, look for me. Look for me amongst the crowds of people, and I'll be there."
Reflecting how she felt, the morning sky held no blue – only gray, along with its thick clouds that continuously tumbled around in the air, and for a brief second, Farrah allowed herself to think that maybe today wouldn't be such an awful day. Perhaps they would have to reschedule the Reaping, which would give everyone a certain amount of time longer with their loved ones, including her. Though sadly, no, for Bran opened her bedroom door without so much as a knock only a few moments later, with a grim look masking his usually boyish features.
"Get ready, we have to leave in ten minutes." That was all she received – no words of comfort, no sympathetic glance, nothing. Brannock had taken Gareth's death harder than anyone being the youngest child, and only thirteen at the time. Yet ever since then, the friendly part of her younger brother had shut down, never bothering to resurface, even after all this time.
Most people dressed up for the Reaping, with girls wearing dresses and guys in their nicest attire, but Farrah resented dresses. It was hard enough for anybody to get her in a skirt, let alone a dress, but today she did so without protest. Finding a dainty floral sun dress tucked away within the farthest reaches of her closet, she put it on, and attempted to tame her usually wild mane of auburn hair. Brannock reappeared soon after in, what she assumed, was his finest apparel.
A clean, light blue shirt suited his tanned complexion well; the small ivory button fastened around the collar with sleeves extending down to his elbows, and a pair of his least faded trousers covering his legs down to the knee while his short hair had been swept back. He resembled Gareth so closely, it almost pained Farrah to look at his face, but the two walked together side-by-side in silence down to where they knew the Capitol stage would be set up. Peacekeepers soon appeared and separated them soundlessly, ushering Bran into the group of fifteen year-old boys and Farrah into the group of seventeen year-old females.
The few girls next to her took steps away, nervously fidgeting while the smell of sweat grew stronger in the sea salted air. Farrah didn't take any offense to the movement, she was an Alpha after all, and it was a common thing for lower-ranked members to step away or lower their heads in submission. Today seemed no different.
Capitol tapestries and flags decorated the stage, whipping around in the wind as an eerie silence stretched out over the crowds. A shrill sort of laughter echoed out from behind the thick curtains of the stage after the annual video was played which explained how the Games came to be, causing everyone's anxiety level to spike as a brightly-clad figure skipped across to the podium. The woman was small, showcasing a light blue dress decorated with sequins to appear like fish scales as the sun's light reflected off both the garment and her unnaturally golden skin.
She reminded Farrah of a trophy or award of some kind, while her bright orange hair was braided atop her head in a way that represented a shark's fin. Despite her amusing attire, no one cracked even the slightest hint of a smile; instead intently watching as she staggered over to the short stand in at least five inch heels styled to look like fins, where the two glass bowls waited, filled three quarters of the way full with dozens of white name cards.
"Greetings, District Four!" she drew out as if calling soldiers to battle, "My name is Inala Whippershum, and I am once again representing District Four for this year's Games!" Though her smile never faltered, Inala seemed a bit irritated due to the lack of applause as she announced herself, choosing to fool with the decorative beads around one of her wrists while her cold eyes scanned the crowd. Her eyes met Farrah's briefly, or so she thought, but the older woman appeared to be flicking her gaze to everyone she could in attempts to bring somewhat of a lively energy to the event taking place.
"It is now time for me to select one fine young lady, and brave young man, who will be given the amazing honor of representing District Four in the Seventy-Fourth annual Hunger Games!" This now being the second time she announced something supposedly exciting only to get no response from any of the people, Inala's eyes narrowed while her smile noticeably tightened. "As tradition ensues, ladies first!" The strange wave of excitement reappeared in her slim face as she scurried over to the first bowl.
Every girl around Farrah stilled, like frightened fawns, they all moved subconsciously to allow space in between one another, as if preparing to let one of their own go. None of them noticed what the other was doing, but she did, staring suspiciously at them all. She knew some of these girls from when they were all children, she knew the individual friendships between each one, and yet this small act of separation made it clear just how much friendship was worth. Farrah didn't understand why, but it made her angry; seeing how easily a connection could be broken when it came down to survival.
It was clear Inala loved the attention she now had as everyone watched her hand obnoxiously swirl around inside the glass bowl, a dazzling smile parting her blue-painted lips when she finally plucked a name card from the bunch. Taking her sweet time unfolding the little thing with her long silver fingernails, she released a satisfied breath before looking out to us all.
"Marigold Nevins."
No. No, that wasn't possible. Every inch of Farrah's muscles tensed, watching helplessly as all the girls around her released their sighs of relief. Did they not know who they were sentencing to death? The entire world seemed to slow as she looked back to see a group of Peacekeepers dragging a familiar silhouette out from the crowd of younger girls.
Marigold whipped her head of soft golden curls around, wide fearful eyes searching the entire crowd when yet another Peacekeeper gripped her bent arm. She was doing just as Farrah had told her. No one stepped forward. No one made a move to save her. Needless to say, Farrah was furious and scared to death all at the same time.
The Alpha parted the pool of seventeen year-old girls easily, rushing to the front without a single clue as to what she was doing. No one protested, simply moved aside, watching curiously to see what she was doing. By the time Farrah had the chance to comprehend exactly what was happening, the words had already left her lips, "I volunteer!"
Every set of eyes shifted to her, but she kept her gaze strictly on Marigold who had stopped struggling against the soldiers, now staring at Farrah with blue eyes as wide as saucers. "I volunteer as tribute!" echoed repeatedly over the crowds, and everything became deadly quiet, even the waves seemed to silence when she pushed past the last few people to stand at the edge of the stage. Farrah knew this was wrong, knew that she shouldn't have done it, but she did, and there was no turning back now.
Inala peered down at her obviously surprised, identical to many of the looks others had projected the girl's way, though she ignored them all. Marigold was the only thing she concentrated on while the little one was slowly released by the Peacekeepers who then turned to collect Farrah, all the while Inala attempted to recollect herself on stage. "O-oh, it – it appears we have a volunteer!"
Despite her cooperation, a firm set of hands were still planted on her back when the four Peacekeepers boxed Farrah in between them all, ushering her towards the steps and onto the stage where everyone could see. Hesitation led her to pause at the first step, with a short glance over her shoulder at the soldiers who took their posts just behind her, blocking the escape, and everything began to make itself clear in that moment. Farrah had just sentenced herself to death in the worst way possible.
Silvers fingertips motioned Farrah onto the stage, glinting in the sunlight like pearls, where Inala's cold hand set itself on the girl's shoulder while turning back to the crowd. She knew the cameras were everywhere, catching her expression for all of the other Districts to see, but at this point Farrah had begun falling back into old habits. All emotion fled her face and suddenly her eyes hardened to show nothing as she gazed out over all the people, unable to find either of the faces she desperately wanted to see.
"What's your name?" Facing Inala, Farrah savored the slightest look of caution that flashed across the older Alpha's face as she recognized the girl to be an Alpha, identical to herself.
"Farrah Rivendell," her tone was dull, clearly not what Inala wanted to hear, but she accepted it all the same. "My, my, such a lovely name for a lovely young tribute," she paused while studying her, "And your pack status?"
The older woman's grin wavered the tiniest bit while smiling at the crowd, examining the stunned faces of the people from District Four as Farrah stared ahead. "I am an Alpha."
The gasps from the audience did not go unnoticed, and murmurs began to fill the air as Inala lightly pat Farrah's shoulder apprehensively; the infectious blue smile never leaving her face. "A round of applause for District Four's female volunteer, Farrah Rivendell!"
Very few people clapped, which had Inala moving quickly to the next bowl as Farrah stood their secretly dumbfounded when it came to the amount of faces that looked back at her in a mixture of sadness and respect. "And now on to the boys!" With a little less enthusiasm this time around, her pointed nails plucked another small card from the bunch, and didn't waste any time in unfolding it.
"Tenner Hayes."
The group of older boys shuffled in an uncomfortable manner to her notice, until one boy, a rather large boy at that, stalked out from the back of the herd. Nothing on his face read afraid or concerned, he presented himself similar to Farrah - emotionless, which she found slightly odd.
When mounting the stage, his solid brown eyes veered away from Inala's smile and quietly looked at the other teen; something passed behind his gaze, an emotion she couldn't quite place that only managed to reveal itself for a second. He turned away while being forced to look out at the people of District Four by Inala's hand on his broad shoulder, probably just so the cameras could get better close-ups for the rest of Panem. A dense head of slightly-curly brown hair matched his unruly eyebrows while a thick set jaw clenched a little tighter when his eyes seemed to zero in on something, or someone in the crowd. Farrah attempted to follow his eyes quietly, finding a little girl with two individual red braids weeping into the hands that covered her face.
"And what is your pack status young man? Surely, you're also an Alpha?" Inala batted her fake eyelashes sweetly at Tenner, who in turn looked off-put by the sudden attention. "I'm a Beta."
Averting her eyes from the sight, the fast-working cogs in her head were almost too distracting that she missed Inala calling for applause for the tributes of District Four. The older Alpha stepped back, which left empty space in between the two teens before looking at them both expectantly. "Well, go ahead tributes, shake hands."
When Tenner turned, the width of his shoulders surprised Farrah, though his large hand remained at his side as he watched her. She could see the uncertainty playing behind his eyes; no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he was still afraid due to her pack status, which led her to sticking out her own hand first. His hand almost engulfed her own, most of the skin on his palm being rough or cracked though she didn't mind; hers probably felt the same way.
That strange look once again flickered behind the color in his eyes, and this time Farrah found it to be recognition, as if he remembered her from somewhere, but she could not catch even the smallest memory of him anywhere in her mind. Their hands dropped back to their sides, and this time the sound of applause broke the thick blanket of silence as the two gazed out over the people.
"I wish you all a happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!"
It felt like hours had passed, with no movement, no contact, just silence. After being led away by Inala into a building occasionally used for Capitol events, Farrah and Tenner were separated into different rooms to say their final goodbyes to anyone that cared enough to visit. So far, Farrah had received no visitation, left to sit quietly on a leather couch pondering the events that had happened only moments before.
This was for Marigold. If she died, she would die knowing she had kept the little Omega from suffering a horrible death in the Arena. With her head in her hands, Farrah stared openly down at the floor, positive that at least an hour had gone by. Still there was no sign of Marigold or Bran, and the thought that neither of them would show to bid her goodbye stung like a fresh cut. Surely her little brother would at least come to say goodbye; he cared about her. Right?
Finally, the large doors parted, showing the Peacekeepers that stood guard on either side, though the only thing Farrah could see was Bran while a little figure sprinted out from behind him. Marigold's tiny arms encircled her neck, tears already seeping into the fabric of her dress as the little girl buried her face into the Alpha's shoulder. "Y-you can't go. You can't!"
Gently rubbing her back, Farrah bit her lip, clamping down harder as tears threatened her own eyes. "I have to go little one." "No, no! You can't go!" her voice grew louder while more tears streamed down her cheeks. Farrah glanced up, studying her brother who stood breathless in the doorway, his chest heaving as if he'd run a mile to get to her.
Dark droplets were peppered across his light blue shirt, most likely from the rain that could be heard beating against the building's roof. "Why did you do it?" he whispered, his face drawn tight. "Bran, I_" "WHY would you volunteer?!"
Now standing with Marigold held at her side, Farrah narrowed her eyes, daring the Beta to raise his voice again. "Don't talk like that. What's done is done," she snapped. "You only had two more years Farrah - TWO more years! Then you would have no longer been eligible!" his voice cracked, expressing the pain he was enduring though she thought none of it.
"I did it to save her!" the growl in her voice quieted her brother, and she watched carefully as he released his fists clenched at each side. "You know she doesn't have a chance against Districts One and Two – no Omega does! This was her first year being entered, and there was no way I was letting her go into that Arena."
Combing the tangled curls out of Marigold's face as she clung to Farrah for dear life, the older girl showed the slightest hint of a smile, "At least now, she won't have to fight." "But you will," Bran crossed his arms stubbornly, a scowl still evident on his face, "What was your plan? To volunteer and pretend like everything was okay? You're going to be fighting for your life in the Hunger Games against twenty-three other kids who all want to go home!"
"I know!" Farrah shouted, causing the crying little one to jump in her arms. "I know…" she sighed, "That's why I want you to keep her safe while I'm gone." "What?"
He took a threatening step forward, fury written across his face. "Bran, I want you to take care of Marigold while I'm away," using her Alpha tone, Farrah could see her little brother's eyes lower in submission; there was nothing he could do to change her order, so he had to obey. "She's the reason you are being sent away in the first place. Why should I_" "Because I asked you too. You will take care of her and keep her out of harm's way. Understood?" Their eyes connected, and no matter how badly Bran wanted to look away, Farrah did not allow it, not until he agreed. A long sigh parted his thin lips as he looked to the floor, "Understood."
"Two minutes," the deep tone of the Peacekeeper on the other side of the door sounded, causing Marigold's sobs to grow heavier.
"I didn't come back here to argue with you. I came to give you this." Bran pulled something from the pocket of his trousers, lifting the short chain up for his sister to see.
"What is that?" she asked stiffly, somewhat aware of what he was holding.
"Mom and Dad gave this to Gareth a few days before they died, and he wore it during his Games. His Mentor sent it back a week after they finished, but I never bothered to tell you. I thought…you would want to have it." The charm hanging from the chain was small, slender and thinned out to be no thicker than a fingernail; tiny numbers were carved into the piece in an order that looked like a date or code.
"I never managed to find out what the numbers stood for," Bran said sadly, "But it could be your token for the Games." "Thank you Bran." The two hugged, with Marigold in between them as her little brother tried to stifle his tears. "I'm sorry," were last words she heard him whisper before being dragged off, with Marigold screaming in the arms of another Peacekeeper.
So that concludes the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it!
I already have the next one done but I like to write the future ones in advance and time out when to post them, so be expecting that sometime soon. I've been contemplating this idea of the whole Hunger Games turned wolf style for a while, and I wanted to test it out and see how well it did, so please feel free to leave a review saying what you thought and I'll be sure to read them.
Also, favorite and follow if you don't mind! I'd really appreciate it.
Note: The pronunciation of my character's name is Far-ah, just in case anyone got confused, but you can read it any way you want, I'm not about to stop you.
In addition, I'm trying to stick as closely to the original book as possible, while also adding a few little twists, but it would really benefit me if some of you mentioned when I got something wrong, or missed something.
I appreciate anyone who took the time to read this first chapter, and hope to be hearing from you guys soon!