Oh gosh! A new story! This one I hope to go all the way with from the beginning all through the Hunger Games. Foxface was always one of my favorites. I always thought there was so much more to her and she had so much depth. So after chatting with Jackie, who played her, I got some details on the character.. and now here it is. So, enjoy.

Sly and Elusive

When I walk down the streets of District 5, it's cold. But not breathtakingly cold, just a faint, hardening chill that was carried along with the wind and crept up your sleeve and to your spine. But it was enough to remind you to stay aware and keep you on your toes. It was the one little voice that reminded me to look over my shoulder every so often.

My worn, leather shoes scraped against the rough cement ground that covered the majority of District 5. We were energy. Power. Because of this, our district was packed with buildings and factories that caused the air to reek. The water- if you could get it- always had a metallic taste. But I did not choose my District. I had been born here fourteen years ago. If I could choose what place to live, I would like to be somewhere like District 4. Where instead of having my feet against metal they could sift through the sand and water could trickle onto my toes. A place where I could be free, free from all of this. Free from this hell.

My red hair was messier than it normally was. On a regular day, it would be smooth and sleek, falling over my back in the simple straight style I usually wore it in. But this time the ends were frizzed, a stray lock fallen over my face. And my worn shirt was slightly sideways, messy, wet- not from the amounts of rain we normally get, but from my own sweat. I was breathing hard.

I looked up into the sky once, and it was gray. The normal weather for a reaping like today. Unfortunately for me, I was running late home from my "work." I doubt I could ready myself up in time and make myself look presentable for the reaping. The reaping. Just the thought of it sent shivers up my spine.

Every year, a girl and boy from each of the twelve districts are given up to compete in the Hunger Games. They are reaped from a bowl where their names lay, some in once, some over forty based off of their age or if they take tesserae. I was in there more times then I needed to, since I took tesserae for myself, my father, and my brother. My poor brother… he was only seven, too young to exactly know what was going on in the games or understand the evil behind them. All he knew was love and hunger. Hunger was something my family felt often here in District 5. Even though we didn't get the worst of the districts, we were poor- extremely poor. And living wasn't easy.

Suddenly, I tripped over a slab of cement that stuck up farther than the others. A faint scream escaped my mouth as I toppled over onto my hands, which didn't end up breaking my fall. Instead, I slid forward and I could feel my knees and hands become rubbed raw from the impact. I groaned, turning myself over onto my back. A few other people were walking on the same path as me, and they walked around me, not bothering to help. This was how things normally went. Nobody minded me… Sparrow Kenvarra. The fourteen year old whore.

It was, after all, the only way I could support my family. My mother had passed away three years ago. After that, my father went mad. He hit me. Quit his job in the factories. My limbs would always be bruised from him. So, I scavenged up until I was twelve. Then I could take tesserae. But that wasn't enough. I was… pretty. I was a nice height with long legs and unusual red hair that seemed to catch people's eye. I hated this, but at the same time it got me work. I was too young to work in the factories. So when I was thirteen… only thirteen… I was forced to make money for my family by selling myself to the wealthy men's beds.

And it broke me.

I lifted myself from the ground finally, and that was when I realized my skirt had torn. This could be a problem, since acquiring clothes wasn't the easiest when food was my priority. I messed with it a little before setting off at a jog towards my home on the southern end of town. That is where the poor citizens of district five lived. My house was towards the front, not too deep in. But that was good. Because today, I knew I had to rush if I wanted to make it in time for the reaping. If I didn't… the peacekeepers would surely punish me.

After five minutes of racing along the town streets, my house came into view. House is actually an overstatement. It was really a metal shack that had two rooms in total, a kitchen and the room where we all sleep. The door was coming off the hinges and wasn't completely closed, so I slipped through the crack to get inside. Straight away, I saw that my brother was asleep on the floor but my father was in the kitchen. With a cup in hand. Right away, I knew it was probably alcohol. But I wasn't mad at him for drinking. I was mad because he probably spent the money I earned on it.

"You're home." My father grunted. He turned around, biting his lip as he took another sip from the tin cup. "Do you… you… have any money?"

It was clear to tell he was drunk. If he was very drunk… I could probably lay him down and he could fall asleep and leave me alone. But if he was only a little drunk, that just made him worse. It made everything worse, and I would pay for it. And along the years, I learned to be quiet. I spoke less and less. Because when I spoke to my father, he would find something wrong in it and hit me some more. If I spoke my mind, someone would disagree and take their anger out on me. And from having to sacrifice myself for the sake of my little brother… it broke me. And before I knew it, I hardly spoke at all.

I looked into my father with my crystal blue eyes. I had a pocketful of change, but I would not let him have it. He would probably spend it on more alcohol, but we needed it for food. So I backed up a step, possibly backing from a fight. But my father's lip curled up into a smile, and with a startling bang he hurled the tin up into the ground. My little brother, Flint, awoke with a start and instantly cried out. This was not good.

"You do have money, don't you, S-Sparrow?" My father hissed, walking towards me. "Give it here… I have… have stuff to pay for."

I shook my head. And instantly, my father's face dropped. He froze. That was the second he realized he would not get his way. And the second I realized this would not be easy for me. All I wished was that I could ready for the reaping… get there on time… now I doubted it.

And suddenly, my father lunged forward and attempted to grab at me, I ducked under him easily, expecting the blow. But what I didn't expect was him suddenly kicking out to intersect my skillful maneuver. His foot caught mine, and for the second time that day, I fell forward and hit the ground with a thud. It winded me, and all the air escaped my chest. I coughed once, and I heard Flint wail. He didn't need to see this! Tears stung my eyes as my father's hands suddenly grabbed me and lifted me up. His hand reached into the pocket on my skirt, and the few, but vital amounts of change I had made were suddenly in his grasp. I groaned, reaching one of my raw hands to my elbow that had begun to bleed. I looked to the earth. I was ultimately nothing.

"Now get ready for the… the reaping." My father spat at me. "Maybe I can get lucky and you'll be picked this year."

And honestly, I never worried about getting picked. Mainly because my mind was on bigger things to me like making sure my family was fed and my brother was ok. But I shrugged off my father's comment. Everything would be easier if I was dead. I wouldn't have to live in my hell anymore. But at the same time, I know I have to stay here for my brother to help him. But even If I was reaped, even though the chances are so, so slim, I know I would die. Because of my father. Because I know what its like to be hurt.

And because of this, I could never even hurt a fly.