Hey, this is my first attempt at a fanfic so please let me know what you think :) Depending on the feedback I'll publish the rest of the chapters at a later date. Thanks for reading!
_
My eyes flicker, adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the open window. I smell the fresh sea air, its strong scent pulling me from the nightmares that drown me each night. The nightmares may have actually occurred around 5 years ago now, but that doesn't stop them from returning to me nightly. The nightmare in question? I am in a field - trident in one hand, net in the other – looking down on the boy tribute from district 7. My first kill. My first of many in the arena.
I look around my familiar room, wishing nothing more than to spend my day breathing in the salty air and perhaps even getting to fish for a while. But I know that both of these options are unreasonable considering what day it is. Today is the reaping for the 70th Hunger Games and, being a mentor, I am expected to make an appearance. Expected to meet the girl and boy who will most likely die in the next few weeks. I don't know what's worse, the situation at hand or the fact I am getting used to it – this being my fifth year of mentoring.
I lay in bed for as long as I can possibly allow – no prep team comes to prepare me for the cameras. I guess I'm considered camera ready without the aid of a prep team. A suit has been laid out for me though, a sea green shirt with some grey suit trousers. Not the worst outfit I've ever had to wear for the cameras.
I leave my house and walk across the Victors Village to get Mags, my own mentor from my time in the Hunger Games. We are not the only victors here, considering that we are a career district, but old Mags is definitely my favourite. She is waiting for me at her door, somehow managing to shake her prep team so we can walk to the town hall together. We tend not to speak on Reaping Day, which suits us both fine – Mags is one of the only people I don't have to try and openly charm. We reach the town hall, with a comfortable silence still resting between us, until we are met at the door by Volumnia, the escort for District 4. She greets me with enthusiasm, stating excitedly in her thick Capitol accent about how she feels this Hunger Game will be the best ever and so on. That accent – I don't think I will ever be used to the Capitol accent. I return her greeting politely, adding a smile that brings colour to her already heavily painted cheeks. My effect on woman of the Capitol, I don't think it will ever wear out.
We make our way out onto the staging that has sprung up over night in front of the town hall, taking our places in a number of seats set out for us. In front of us is every 12-18 year old in district 4, waiting to see which of them will be taken from their home and sent to the Capitol to fight, and perhaps die. Volumnia takes the microphone, introducing the video "all the way from the Capitol" that is shown every year, to remind these children why they are being sacrificed. The voice of President Snow narrating the video rings out through, it would seem the whole district. I try to ignore it, vomit rising in my throat as my mind processes it, remembering our last conversation, and what it had cost me, and what it had lead too – No. I stop the thoughts. I'll deal with them in the Capitol. I can't break down here, not with potential tributes watching.
The video ends, and I release a sigh. Too loud. Mags turns her head, squinting her eyes at me. I mouth to her some excuse about the temperature, and she turns back to her original position – if she knows I'm lying she pretends otherwise. Volumnia is back at the microphone, announcing "ladies first". Her hand reaches into the first of the two bowls beside her and she pulls out a white piece of folded card, the world seems to be holding in a collected breath. "Annie Cresta" her strong Capitol accent carries the name over the crowd and a small girl steps forward. She starts to walk towards the stage, her face impossible to read. I guess she is in shock. She reaches the stage and stands awkwardly beside Volumnia, playing with a strand of her long brown hair – I'm guessing this is a nervous habit.
Volumnia now reaches into the second bowl "And now, our male tribute."And her hand withdraws from the bowl with another piece of folded card. "Zayle Boyle." A strong looking boy, with wavy blonde hair steps forward – out of our two tributes he is the one I would put money on becoming this year's Victor. He stands on the stage beside Annie, offering her a small smile. Smiling in this situation? He must be trying to comfort her. The remaining crowd give their applause while Annie and Zayle are lead into the Town Hall by their new escort. Mags and I follow, heading for the main room of the Building so we can discuss the new tributes while they say their goodbyes to the families waiting for them.
I help Mags to a seat, starting my analysis of each of the tributes.
"The boy, Zayle? He seems strong, good look, probably handy with a spear or a net at least. He seems like our best chance."
"No." Her response takes me aback for a second. "Don't overlook that girl, she can weave a net faster than anyone I've ever seen and she is a fair good swimmer, strong too. I've seen her down at the docks with her father. My guess is she will be overlooked by the other tributes, which could give her an edge."
I take in this new information, trying to match up this description to the small girl I seen on the stage. She didn't look like someone who could possess such qualities; her stature alone shouted out that she needed protection, reflected in the fact that Zayle offered her comfort with his smile. But I take Mags opinion on board, hoping that Annie does indeed have these skills that could be crucial to her survival over the next few weeks.
Volumnia joins us, sharing her opinion on Zayle and Annie. She seems to have overlooked Annie too, only stating that she was an exceptionally pretty girl before babbling on about how they could present Zayle at his interview. She stops when we are joined by the tributes, and instead starts worrying over her schedule that she has planned to the very last second, scooting us all towards the train that will take us to the Capitol.