Chapter 1
Author's note: Soooo, I know that HG fanfic was cool like forever ago, but I have been reading it again lately. So, I figured other people probably are still reading it too. Leave an suggestions you have in the comments, thanks!
I draw in a deep breath, taking in the earthy smell of the surrounding woods. The smell of these woods is my absolute favorite thing about District 12. Sometimes, I come to these woods with no intention to hunt. I just need to inhale the smell, it calms me. Today, in particular, is one of those days that I need the wood's calming scent to put my mind at ease. It's the day of the reaping. At the end of this hellish day, one lucky boy and girl from 12 will be on a bullet train to the Capitol, where they are going to be put in an arena was 22 other kids to fight to the death. My younger sister, Prim, and I both have our names entered in the reaping. Not by choice, obviously, the Capitol forces us to until we are 18.
I hear a rustling of the leaves behind me, and I snap my neck around only to see Gale. Gale has been my best friend, practically family, since both our dad's died many years ago. We hunt together to provide food for our families. Gale walked up to stand beside me, I have never realized how tall he is until this moment when I had to look up to meet his eyes. He looked at me and furrowed his brow a little, as if trying to read my face, but then his eyes softened, "Don't worry too much about it, Catnip. There are tons of kids in 12, the odds of it being one of us, or Prim is very slim." How could he be so calm about the reaping? I haven't slept this entire week because I have been worrying about it so much. "Easy for you to say, you're 18, this is the last reaping you will ever have to face, Gale. I still have 2 more, and Prim has 6." My words came out more bitter and accusatory than intended, but Gale, bless him, didn't take my tone to heart, he just covers both my shoulders with his calloused hands and turns me toward him. He chuckles, "Thanks for projecting your anger on to me Catnip, good thing I can take it." I smile sheepishly and lower my eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about Prim." Gale grimaces, "I can only imagine how worried you are about her, but good news is, you have me to lean on. And, next year when Rory is in the reaping too, I'll have to lean on you too." He releases my shoulders from his calloused grip, and we turn back toward District 12 and begin the trek home
Once we slip through the electric fence, that is rarely actually on, that separates 12 from the woods, Gale and I part ways to go to our homes. But before we part Gale says, "Remember Catnip, whatever happens, today, we have each other and that's all that matters," and then he bows with an eccentric hand gesture and says in an accent that mocks how the Capitol people speak, "and may the odds be ever in your favor." I return the bowing gesture and say in the same accent, "Same to you Mr. Hawthorne." We both crack up laughing, I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard, like belly-aching hard. Then Gale gives me a friendly wink and turns to walk toward his house.
As I walked down the dusty path of red dirt to my home, I pass the Hob. The Hob is the black market of 12, and its where Gale and I sell most the extra game that we kill. It's basically just a bunch of shacks that are covered in a layer of coal dust from the mines here in 12. The kind of people who hang out at the Hob are not the kind folks you want to be seen within the light of day: drunks, prostitutes, and vendors selling a bounty of illegal items. But, there are a few good souls that just happen to make their living at the Hob. As I'm passing it, I see one of those good souls, Greasy Sae a vendor at the Hob who makes a mean bowl of soup, and we exchange a polite nod. People in 12 aren't overly friendly, which I appreciate because being friendly and bubbly all the time is extremely draining, to me at least. But on reaping day, exchanging grave looks is about as friendly as it gets. As I pass the Hob, I keep on walking until the intoxicating smell of fresh bread wafting from the Mellark's bakery stops me dead in my tracks. The Mellark's are one of the more well-off families in 12, due to their successful family bakery. They have a few sons, two that are older and have already married, and one my age, Peeta. Just thinking about him brings forth a memory that hits me like a ton of bricks. Me lying on the ground in rain, just after the death of my father, starving to death. Little Peeta, with his piercing blue eyes, throwing me a loaf of burnt bread that was supposed to be for his pigs. And his mother slapping him hard in the face for doing so. A debt I will never be able to repay. I take a step closer to peer into the bakery's glass case, and I see delicately and intricately frosted cakes and cookies, a luxury only a few in 12 can afford. As I ogle over the sweets, I notice a pair of blue eyes looking at from the counter inside the bakery. When I notice the eyes staring at me in the same manner that I stare at the sweets, I turn away quickly and start home again.
By the time I reach my home, which is not much more than a shack, in the Seam, I only have an hour to get ready for the reaping. For some reason, we always dress in our nicest clothes for the reaping. Which has never made much sense to me, but then again they do dress corpses nicely for their funeral.
When I open the front door, Prim greets me with a warm hug. Prim might be the friendliest person in the entire district, to know her is to love her. Whenever her bony little arms wrap around me, it makes my heart hurt a little. I wish I could provide her with enough food, so that she wasn't so skinny, although most children in 12 are. After my father died my mother kind of shut down and folded up within herself. Which left Prim and me to starve, until I learned how to hunt. Prim was so young at the time she doesn't remember my mother's mental break down, so she has a good relationship with her. I, on the other hand, do not. Ever since my father died, I have been more of a parent to Prim than she has, and I resent my mother for that, for making me grow up so fast.
After Prim releases me from her extremely tight hug, she leads me over to the tin tub, well really bucket, full of not-so-warm water for me to bath in. "Gee little duck, did you use all the hot water?", I teased. She raises one her dark eyebrows, despite having blonde hair, at me in a slightly sassy fashion, "Well, if you didn't spend all morning in the woods with Gale it would still be warm.". "Okay, okay fair enough," I said in a tone of mock defeat. I undressed and bathed quickly, spurred on by the icy temperature of the water. Then, I reluctantly let Prim braid my hair in a fancy fashion. I much prefer my simple braid to her intricate ones, which draw too much attention to me. But, she begs me and uses her puppy dog eyes, so I relinquish my hair to her control. I then slip on a simple dress, grab a hold of Prim's tiny hand and head out the door of our home to the town square for the reaping.
Chapter 2
