Hey.

I know most of you only subscribe to this author alert because of The Mark of Athena, but if you like the Hunger Games, I'll ask you to please review.

I get sad when I don't get reviews on other stories that I've written. It doesn't give me motivation to keep writing the next chapter of Mark of Athena :(

Anyway, enjoy.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I've just woken. My sister and brother lay on identical beds on either side of me, still sleeping.

Reaping day. The one day of the year I positively loathe. What would I give to shove the idea in the Capitol's face and give their precious, rich children a chance to slaughter one another. I've been lucky these past years. I haven't been picked to be a tribute. Being 14 and the child of a previous victor, my name is becoming more and more likely to be drawn. The Capitol loves that. Children of victors being chosen. I don't have to worry about my younger brother, Skid, just yet, who is 10, but my older sister Lianna may be another story. She's 16 but not as strong as I am. I'm the one who runs around the small factory where we work, lifting things like boxes of music chips in shapes of footstools, assorted ornaments and even picture frames for the Capitol that my sister invented. She sits down with a large notebook employed to design. No, I decide. They wouldn't get a fight out of her. They'd prefer me. I'm sure of it.

I look to Lianna who has just woken, her eyes are glazing over with tears and I put a finger to my lips. Don't cry. I mouth to her. She nods. I think she knows that one of us will be chosen today and not by chance. I swing my legs out of bed and Lianna does the same, careful not to wake Skid.

We pad out to the front of the house where the hot, summer air greets us and Lianna begins to sob.

'No, no Li.' I whisper, stroking her hair.

'I-I d-don't want us t-to be chosen.' She cries.

'Li, I'm going to volunteer if you get chosen. You know that right?'

Her eyes widen and you can tell she doesn't know what to say because she starts sputtering protests.

I just shake my head and walk back inside, leaving her alone on the porch.

My father sits at the big, wooden table with a cup of the rare coffee he so enjoys.

I hug him good morning and he hugs me back tightly and says 'May the odds be in your favor.'

I squeeze my eyes shut knowing full well, the odds will not be in my favor.

I break away from the hug and he offers me breakfast. I cook myself up some bacon and bread, a rarity even for a victor of district three. Lianna comes in, looking dazed and hugs our father, he doesn't wish the odds in her favor though, he just looks solemn. He thinks Lianna's name will be reaped. Even if it is, it wouldn't matter.

My mother comes into the room looking very tired, with bags under her eyes. She greets us with a tight hug.

Lianna and I leave to get dressed, and I know what's coming,

'Kitra I won't let you do this.'

'You won't really have a choice, will you? If I volunteer you can't do anything about it.'

'Then I volunteer if you get reaped.'

'You won't. You don't want to go in.'

'I- what? You don't want to either!' She exclaims.

'I will if I have to.' I say.

We get dressed in silence.

I'm wearing a simple emerald green dress with a white saturn bow at the waist, the dress goes just above my knees and has small sleeves.

Lianna is wearing a sky blue skirt that clings to her skin and gathers at the knees to she has to walk like a penguin. I can't help but giggle as she attempts to walk normally. She frowns at me, pouting and it's almost normal now, we haven't fought or offered our lives to one another.

I tie my hair up so my short ponytail only just touches my shoulders and do the same thing for Lianna.

We walk to square, it's big, too big for the amount of children in District Three, we fit in with lots of space to spare. I stand with my friend Skyler, who is oblivious to my nervousness, due to her own.

Mother and Skid are further back, with the rest of the parents and younger children.

The escort for District Three, the Mayor and the 4 victors stand on the stage, including my father.

The Mayor gives his annual speech of the history of Panam and District Three then passes the crackling microphone over to a short woman by the name of Sintia Applecross.

She greets us with forced excitement and with a flourish of her hand reaches into the orb marked, GIRLS and pulls out a slip of paper. I can practically feel the deep intake of breath from the crowd as she reads, 'Kitra Evok.'

Hey look down.

Further down.

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