THE 75th HUNGER GAMES- FANFICTION

Katniss

The morning air is light and breezy, but the heavy tension hangs in the air, clogging up not my lungs but my heart.

The Hob is closed as it always is on Reaping Day, but I managed to fill my supple leather game bag with meat from the butcher and greens from the corner stall. I have the money, after all.

I consider fleeing into the woods, where it smells of wood and rain, instead of the fear and bitter resentment towards the Capitol that darkens the pale morning sky.

I realise, though, that I can also feel the fear gripping my heart, and the demon of hate stirring inside me.

There is no escape, I know that now.

I turn sharply away from the electric fence that separates District 12 from the freedom and life hidden far into the woods.

And speaking of freedom and life, there is also inevitable danger and supposed death. Is it worth it?

I bite my lip, remembering the girl I once was. The girl Gale once suggested running away with. Of course, we would have had to take Hazel, and Gale's little brothers, my mom and Prim…

Prim. Prim with her pale, innocent blue eyes and her straw blonde hair. Prim, who loved flowers, animals, and refused to kill a single thing, who is still at risk of getting caught in the 75th Hunger Games.

What did they plan to do, huh? I think, subconsciously glaring into the path leading to Gale's house. The third Quarter Quell… Did the capitol plan to murder extra children… Or did they plan to throw in some horrible condition which will mean a lot more painful deaths? Cruel, but nothing is too hard for the Capitol. For all their glamour and achievements, humanity has never been one of their strong points.

"Hey, relax, Catnip," I snap off my fierce glare and notice Gale, with his stocky build and grey Seam eyes softened by the empathy the pain of watching hapless children die every year has given him. "Happy Hunger Games…" He says, as if blindly reading the lines from an instruction manual. "…And may the odds be ever in Prim's favour." He whispers.

"Thanks," I smile, careful not to cause the Peacekeepers roaming the streets any suspicion. You are supposed to be in love with Peeta, I remind myself, feeling a familiar stab of annoyance. Sure, Peeta is sweet, but…

I drop the subject in frustration and look up at Gale. "What about Rory? How many times will his name go in?"

"Two." Gale says firmly without any hesitation. "I told you, Katniss. He's not taking any tesserae. Not now, not ever. Nor will Vick, or Posy."

"That's good," I say, stating the obvious. "Prim's name is only in twice, too."

Still, even with the odds in your favour, luck may not always be. I remember how Prim, with just a single entry, was picked. I shiver involuntarily as her hysterical face flashes into my mind.

"It's almost ten, Catnip." Gale says softly. "Better go home now."

Gently, silently, he brushes away a lock of my hair.

"Good luck."

He turns down the path, and I turn away too, back into the victor's village, with its inappropriate Capitol sponsored festival banner and its dark sadness disguised by the pretty flowers that line the garden.

I remember Haymitch, warning me of the dangers ahead, dangers far worse than those of the Hunger Games, which I'd barely managed to survive… President Snow's snake like eyes, bound with revenge, flicker in my eyes.

Haunted, I close my eyes and shake my head lightly.

Get a grip, Katniss, I tell myself. You're seventeen. You are a survivor of The Hunger Games. Times ahead might be rough, sure, and mentoring the tributes will be hell, but would you rather have died? Instead, you've got to stay strong. For your mom, for Prim, for the District 12 tributes. You are not the one going to die. They can't kill you, can they?

I plaster on a shaky smile and square my shoulders. Yes, it would be hard for them to kill me.

I didn't turn back to see who I left so vulnerable, when I retreated into my comfort zone. I simply couldn't. Well, wouldn't, actually.

And with that mistake made, the snake lunged in for its kill.