Chapter One

The Reaping

I watch intently as the first signs of Dawn approach. Crimson streaks appear in the sky, colouring the lake that lies before me, a bloody red. Letting the first rays of sun warm me, I gaze at the still waters of the District 5's lake. Not a fish breaks the silent water. All the birds have took flight. For they fear The Reaping just as we do.

I brush away a long strand of red hair from my face as my mother enters the clearing. "Scarlet," she says softly. "You need to get ready now, for the Reaping." I close my eyes. Wish today away. Hope that when I open them, I will not have to gather all my courage and face the Reaping.

But today won't go away. And I need to be strong, for my little brother, and for my mother, who lost her very own brother to the Capitol's terrible games. A game of murder and manipulation, a game in which we must fight to the death for the Capitol's enjoyment.

With slow mechanical movements, I follow my mother home, to where my brother, Timmy, waits expectantly, dressed in a shirt, and trousers that's several sizes too big for him. My father greets me with a strained smile, but the dark bags under his eyes tell me of his worries.

Washing and brushing the tangles from my hair keeps me busy, and as I dress in a powder blue frock that has been my families for decades. On the table, I notice a silver locket, with beautiful engravings upon it. Lifting it up it catches the light, and I see that it is marked with the letter 'S'. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Says a voice behind me. I whip around to see my mother, smiling slightly, watching me.

"I'm sorry. It was just lying here so I picked it up…" I stammer, not sure if she is angry or not. She gives a weak laugh. "No need to look so scared. I meant for you to find it. It was you Grandmother, Sabina's. But it is meant for you, Scarlet."

I stare at the necklace, "For me? Are you sure?" she nods, steps forward and fastens it around my neck. "There. Now you're ready. Let's go."

We head down to the District Square, where so many have gathered all ready. The second we arrive, peacekeepers arrive and separate us into groups. Timmy, as he is not old enough to be reaped, is lead to a group of other children about his age, while my mother and father are placed into a group of concerned parents. Then there's me, lining up, waiting for our bubbly District 5 escort, Cecilia Bell, to arrive.

When at last she skips on to the stage, eye catching with her short, green hair, she greets us all with the usual, "Happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favour!" Yes, of course, in other words, you are about to watch 23 children be slaughtered. So let's just hope you won't be one of them. Cheerful.

The mayor then proceeds into an immensely boring tale of treason which we have all heard a million times. Cecilia seems eager to get down to business, probably because she's as bored of the same long speech as we are. She hops towards the microphone, trilling in her high pitched voice, "Well now, 74th Hunger games, huh? Now, as always ladies first!" Giggling, she pops her hand into the pot of girl's names and rifles through the pieces of paper.

My heart hammers in my chest. Please, please don't be me… she pulls out a name and reads;

"Scarlet Waters. Umm… where is Scarlet Waters?" My mother lets out a piecing cry. My jaw drops. The crowd parts to let me through, but I'm still frozen. The cameras find me, I compose myself, knees knocking, I step forward.

Smiling, Cecilia Bell ushers me onto the stage. "So young lady, how old are you?" she asks, giving me a warm pat on the back. "Fifteen," I answer, gritting my teeth to stop them chattering.

"Excellent. Now, on to the boys." She routed through to boys' names, unfolded one and read, "Blake Hunt." A boy, around my own age, steps forward to take his place on the stage. His face is wiped of all emotion. "And how old are you?" asks Cecilia, as she attempts to organise her messy, lime green hair. He stares at her with his large, hazel eyes. "Sixteen." He says, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "Well, shake hands!" says Cecelia. We shake hands, his eyes flicker to my dress, and I can tell he's taunting me. Thinking what easy prey I am, a little girl with a pale blue frock. But I'll show him. Show him that I am a fighter.

After all, there's only one winner.