Hey Guys Thanks for reading our story! If you have any questions, ask one of us responding according to which character you're talking about! A few key pointer have been changed slightly…We don't own the Hunger Games just the characters Rianne, Tala, and the alternate personalities we've created for Thresh and Peeta. So please enjoy, review, anything but flame!

Tala POV:

"Sh," I warned gently as Carla began to fuss in my arms. Dica Hiton had just reached into the bucket of names to select a girl tribute for the next Hunger Games. The last thing I needed was a crying two year old disrupting the announcement. My father gave me a sharp look, warning me to keep her quiet, but what could I do, really? She was starving. I switched Carla to my left side and tried to stop my tight black dress from shimming all the way up my leg. I felt her lay her head on my exposed shoulder and hoped she would fall asleep. With slight impatience I brushed her vibrant black curls from her eyes and straightened out her hand me down red dress.

"And the girl that will receive the honor of participating in the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games is…Lana Welsh," Dica read in her thick Capitol accent; just before she ran a hand nonchalantly through her snow white hair. I felt my twelve year old sister, Cora, freeze by my side and I myself went quite still. I watched as the young girl directly to my left moved from her place in the crowd and navigated cautiously through the maze of people. Her blonde hair and pale skin somehow made her look smaller as she boarded the wooden stage.

"Oh God," I whispered. I racked my mind desperately trying to recall if any beefed up girl in my grade had made a comment about wanting to go into the Games this year. Lana was one of those girls you couldn't help but love. Bright, happy, and as loyal as they come.

The world around me had faded away and all I could digest was how that fair haired little girl stood exactly no chance of returning home. I thought of how Cora would no longer have a friend to stick up for her at school when the other girls teased her about her scrawny legs and ancient clothing; and never again would she tell animated stories about her best friends latest adventure.

For a brief moment in time not a breath could be heard; and then Carla let out a miserable cry that sent shock waves through the throng of people. Yes, that about sums it up. Cora latches onto me and I cradle her against my chest with me free hand, and as her tears fall onto my dress I know what I must do.

"Now I must ask. Does anyone wish to take the place of the selected pair?" Dina chirps. I now notice Witten Kresny standing next to Lana and pray that someone does for him what I'm about to do for her.

"I do!" My words ring out across the court yard and all eyes turn to me.

"NO! No Tala please!" Cora begs as fresh tears spring from her eyes. I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling and pass Carla carefully to my father. I refuse to meet his eyes and I feel certain he's looking down as well. Cora grabs the hem of my dress and I have to pry her hands off before giving her a kiss on her tear stained cheek and turning to take Lana's place. People move swiftly out of my way, some even reach out and pat my back. Everyone knows that I'm not a Career. I make myself focus on the sound of my high heels scraping stone and readjust my mother's pearl necklace before stepping onto the stage. I am just barely to her when Lana throws her arms around my waist. I return her hug half heartedly and sweep my curtain of jet black hair from my eyes.

"Oh how lovely a new competitor," Dica says dejectedly into the microphone. "And what might your name be Dear?" she asks in the same distant voice. I think seriously about telling her it's none of her, or the rest of the Capitol's, business what my name is but finally chocked out the four syllables.

"Tala Kisler." When Lana finally releases me and scurries of stage with obvious eagerness I turn and face my audience. I spot the camera crew mere feet from where I stand and notice the camera dropping to my feet and then slowly making its way back up my body; when it finally returns to my face I blow a kiss in that direction. I roll my eyes as the camera man blushes a deep red and then smile as Channing Lotner volunteers for Witten. I know Channing yes, but I don't like him in the slightest. I will have no problem killing him when the time comes… at least emotionally. I study him for a second and know that he will be competition.

"So there you have it! Your tributes from District Four: Channing Lotner and Tala Kisler!" When I don't move she adds "shake hands." I turn robotically to Channing and in that instant forget how to move my arm. He grabs my hand and thrust it up and down with a grunt of impatience.

Eventually I am forced to really see the people looking back at me. Tears run down the faces of my family but that is not a surprise. The true shock is just how many people are crying; crying for me. Many of the boys are letting silent tears fall shamelessly and I know it's because they will no longer stand any sort of chance with me. Even if I was the poor girl down the street the potential suitors lined up at the door. Trying to ignore them I noticed how every nerve in my body was excruciatingly aware of where I was standing, of my beating heart, and of the shallow breaths I was sucking in. I never knew how many would be affected by my death. And now standing next to Channing I realized how inevitable that truly was. But then again I had something he didn't…a reason to return. As I looked down at Cora my jaw tightens with determination.

Rianne's POV:

'This is crap,' I thought as I stood in tight formation with my family, surrounded by a sea of people. I had awakened this morning with a sense of dread but, that was to be expected. Today was the Reaping. Even the trees could feel it, for they stood completely still, branches hanging limply from their trunks. That was a couple of hours ago, now I was standing with the rest of my District in the town square. They were announcing the tributes from my District, District 7. I looked around noticing the array of emotions playing on the faces of those around me; the most common: fear.

Fear that their son or daughter would be forced to be in the Games. I looked at my mom and dad. Both had on strong faces as they clutched the shoulder of my younger sister Lura. She was only six and had just started to understand the Games. I understood why my mother didn't want to explain it to her more thoroughly. She would be scared and that alone would break my mom's heart. The first Hunger Games where I had been eligible to go in my mother had cried in relief that I hadn't been chosen. Now I stood between my older brother, Mace, and my older sister, Tryce.

I listened with disdain as Liza Higgins spoke in her fake, overly cheerful voice. She was giving her annual "we love the Capitol, blah, blah, blah, The Hunger Games are important, blah, blah," speech. Finally she got to the only part any of us cared about. "And the boy tribute is Mallard Ikian." I turned to see the boy she had called out. He looked to be about thirteen. His parents were in a state of disbelief, it was written all over their faces. His mother grabbed her chest as if to hold herself together as he approached the stage and let out a wail of pain. His father pressed his mother close as he smiled solemnly at his son, apparently proud of how brave the small boy was acting.

My anger and hatred for the Capitol deepened and I turned to coldly glare at our Capitol representative once again. When Mallard was standing by her side she continued.

"And the girl tribute is… Rianne Golds!" My heart seemed to stop and I could feel my whole family freeze. Tryce's hand went slack in mine. Damn. I looked up at my kin. Their faces portrayed pain, horror, anger, but mostly sadness.

"No," Tryce whispers. I whip my head around to look at her. She wouldn't meet my strong gaze. "No!" This time she yelled it, for all to hear, the look on her face daring Liza to question her. "I Vo—"

"Don't you dare," I stopped her in her tracks. My parents looked at me, stunned. I squeezed Tryce's shoulder and hastily broke the ranks of our line. I felt my brother Mace grab my hand and I turned around.

"Promise me you'll win, fight to the death," he whispered in a monotone.

"To the death," I answered. My voice broke on the last syllable and a single tear slipped down my cheek. It wasn't out of fear, love for my brother welled in my chest. Mace wiped it from my face quickly knowing I hated it when people saw me cry. He tightened his grip on my hand and then let it go all together. My mom opened her mouth to speak but I didn't want to hear it.

"I'm a big girl; I'm sixteen I can handle myself." I said it in a deadened voice to show her I was serious. She paled dramatically at my words and my father nodded his head. I offered them a smile before composing my face and becoming the image of indifference. I snaked through the people in front of me and boarded the stage; a foreboding sense of dread following me.

All of a sudden it truly hit. An anger so alive it almost caused me to double over seized me. Instead of falling I clutched my stomach. Liza monitored my expression with wide, fearful eyes. It was obvious I was not to be screwed with. She gave a nervous sort of laugh.

"We'll we've never had someone turn down a volunteer before." I felt the urge to meet her words with some snippy or sarcastic comment but I settled for cutting her a glare. I softened my expression and met the eye of the boy behind me. I wouldn't kill him, I'd let someone else do it. I'm pretty sure I'll at least try to help him…in the beginning anyway. After a while I'd go my own way. I already felt protectiveness over him that I shouldn't feel. I was a competitor which meant I needed to think like a competitor. We shook hands.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone," Liza said happily. Her cheerfulness was completely fake just like the luminescent, shiny gold color of her hair. I looked at my relatives. Mom and dad needed Tryce and Mace. I looked at Mace and he mouthed one word to me.

"Win." It was in the moment when I knew what I must do. I had to win. Winning was a promise to my family. I had said "to the death" and Id's meant it. I had promised victory over everyone else. I felt bad for the others because they had no idea what they were up against. I remembered the family motto. Whatever it takes.

I smirked to myself.

"To the death," I say quietly.

Tala POV:

"Cora it's ok," I said softly. I could tell she didn't believe that. Not for one minute. Her chin was shaking and I knew she was trying not to cry when she responded.

"Here," she croaked, handing me a small silver ring. It was her only heirloom of my mothers. "For your token," she explained slowly.

"Cora…" I was threatened to say that if I die this wouldn't be returned to her but I couldn't force the words out. "Thank you," I murmured, wrapping her in a hug. I pressed my face into her hair and tried not to cry.

"Come back," she begged quietly.

"Take this," I responded, unhooking the pearl necklace and placing it around her neck, right before they made her leave.

I wasn't surprised when my dad didn't make an appearance. I mean what could he say really?—'Uh sorry I haven't been there for you or your sisters since your mom died. Maybe if you manage to live through it I'll make an effort.' No.

My best friend Denila showed up a second after Cora. She stared at me for a while, and after a minute of awkward glaring I cross the room to her.

"What?" I finally demand in my normal, sarcastic voice. She smiles but she seems to pale when I speak, as if realizing this is the last time she will hear my voice… in person anyway. She pushes the brown hair out of her face, takes my hand and makes me look at her.

"Well…" she begins in a voice that reveals no emotion. She knows I can't see her cry; not now. "See you when you get back," her voice breaks on the last word and as a fountain of tears erupt from her green eyes she turns to leave. Being strong for them is shockingly easy. Outwardly at least I reveal nothing; inside I am a train wreck.

"Bye Denila," I call after her. It was odd for me, seeing her cry, because the only other occasion this has happened is when her little brother died. Then it occurs to me that to her I'm as good as dead. After all the only real talent I have is my obvious sex appeal. But I think that this particular talent has been sorely underestimated for a while now. It can be the most powerful weapon the arena has ever seen, if you know how to use it, and I know how to use it. I'll do whatever it takes to return. Even be a complete slut in front of our entire world? I shivered at the thought but can't help what flashes through my mind. Let the Games begin.

Rianne POV:

As soon as it had begun it was over. I was whisked away with Mallard and it was time for us to say our goodbyes. It could be the last time we will ever see our loves ones. My mom and dad had prayed someone; anyone would come forward and volunteer for me…but not Tryce. They couldn't choose one daughter over the other. I was determined to stay strong for them. They were angry with the Capitol, hell they were angry at the world.

"I won't let them take my baby," my mom snapped. This was why I was so strong, because it has been installed in me since birth. My parents looked shaken but more firm then ever in having me stay.

"I turned down a volunteer ma, I knew what I was getting myself into. Look just promise me you'll look over Lura, Trace, and Mace." Tears threatened to spill over as I hugged my parents.

"Remember we love you," My dad whispered.

"Love you guys too." And with that they walked out the door. I released a breath that was tempting to explode in my chest. I put my head in-between my knees and for the first time in a long time I cried unrelentingly. I had been crying unrelentingly for a good ten minutes when I heard her. I looked up at her with a confused expression on my flushed face.

"I've seen you around town, I know you're really strong and I know you don't know me but please don't kill him. Look out for my little boy. He's one of a kind you know." I smiled at her.

"Of course I won't hurt him, I'll help him whenever he asks for it; I promise." She bowed her head in a sign of respect and walked out. Then I was beckoned towards the trainI found Mallard outside waiting for me so we could board as one. Unlike me he hadn't tried to hide the fact he had been crying. He had his head bowed with sobs rocking his short, stocky body.

My family and I didn't do well with emotions. Even when we said our goodbyes we tried to act as curt as possible. We didn't like to show emotions, composure was something we'd mastered over the years, but for some unknown reason I had to comfort him. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. Mallard looked up and began to take deep breaths to calm himself. He smiled at me as I smirked to give him confidence. It had finally set in, this is it. We were officially tributes in the Hunger Games and we were officially leaving District 7 and it might be for good.