Chapter 1: I've Had Weirder Days, I Just Can't Think of Any.
Hi everyone! This is my new Hunger Games story about Katniss and Peeta's daughter, and Gale's son. Wanna know who Gale married? Keep on reading! (Pssst she's probably an OC) Here, District 12 was rebuilt, Katniss and Peeta don't live in Victor's Village, Peeta owns his family's bakery, Gale lives in District 12, and Katniss' mother also lives there. But Prim was still killed by the bombs, and Katniss still killed President Coin. Okay, enough with the rambling, on to the story!
I ran through the woods silently, my footsteps muffled by the carpet of grass, searching for prey. A flash of movement caught my eye, and in a second I was facing the source of the movement, ready for the kill. To my suprise, it wasn't an animal, it was a boy.
He looked around seventeen, a year older than me. He had dark brown hair, olive skin, and clear, piercing gray eyes. He was holding his hands up in a defensive gesture, and I was shocked to see he was holding a few rabbits and squirrels.
"Take it easy, girl. I'm not going to hurt you. I was just checking my traps." He said, raising his game, showing me the animals. I lowered my bow, not yet putting it away, but pointing it down at the ground instead of directly at his heart. I eyed him with suspicion, wondering why he looked familliar.
"I'm Derek Hawthorne. Just moved here." He said, giving me his hand to shake. Hawthorne? Why did that sound so familliar? Had I heard it at school?
"Delilah." I take his hand and shake it. His grip is so firm, it almost hurts. But I'm tougher than most girls my age, and I can handle it. I decide against using my last name, since it causes something of an issue at school when people find out my mother led the rebellion that set us all free.
I'm Delilah Primrose Mellark. My name is sweet and pretty, unlike me. My father is Peeta Mellark, and my mother is Katniss Everdeen Mellark, as you probably guessed from my last name. I have my mother's brown hair which I let hang loose around my shoulders, my father's light skin, and his icy blue eyes. I'm sixteen years old. I have a little brother named Jeremy Gale, who is twelve years old, and has my father's blond hair, and my mother's knowing gray eyes.
I am a hunter, as you probably can already tell, just like my mother. She taught me everything she knows, and now I'm almost as good a hunter as her. My father tried to teach me how to paint, and I'm fairly hopless at it. The best I can do is paint a straight line.
My brother, however, can paint scenes so realistic, and sometimes so horrifying, I have to leave the room to prevent myself from being sick. Most of the time, he paints scenes from the 74th Hunger Games, the one our parents were in. We've watched the Games in school, and he tries to paint them. I know what you're thinking; the Games are much too gruesome to be shown to a bunch of kids, but we need to know our about our past. At least, that's what they say.
Our parents have told us everything about the rebellion, the Games, and the Quarter Quell. All I can say is that I'm glad that my mother started the rebellion. It makes me shudder to think what would have happened, had it failed.
My little brother, on the other hand, thinks it's 'cool' that our parents had to fight to the death in the arena. When my mother heard that, she turned so pale and fainted. Jeremy's much too young to understand the concept of twenty-four kids killing each other to survive. I can only hope that when he grows up, he will come to terms with what the Hunger Games really meant to the Capitol. It was a means to control the people of the districts. As my mother said, and I quote, "This was the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we were at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they used, the real message was clear. 'Look how we take your children and sacrifice them, and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen.'"
My brother may be incredibly clueless, but I love him none the less. He's a sweet person, always trying to make others happy, despite the fact that he doesn't understand that killing people is always counted as a horrible thing to do. He's not all that violent, I promise you, he just doesn't understand.
Now that the Capitol no longer controls the districts, we are not so poor as we were. We have proper food everyday, and now have enough jobs to keep everyone alive.
I still hunt, though, as do some other people, like this boy. My parents cook the game I bring home, and it costs much less than buying food.
The Hob still exsists, but nearly no one knows about it. It still is considered the black market of District 12, and Greasy Sae is still serving her slop there, after thirty-one years. She may be old, but she can still come up with good food just like in my mother's day.
Back to the present now. I am here in the woods, just beyond my district, talking to a boy named Derek Hawthorne. It seems as though I know him. I look him over, trying to see if anything else about him rings a bell. As I look at him, I notice that he's lean and muscular, a lot taller than me. I eye him warily, not sure if I should trust him.
He brakes the eery silence and says, "Hunting? I got all the good game already." smugly.
"What makes you think I can't get anything better you have?" I snap at him, annoyed with his cockiness.
"I'd like to see you try." Only is it then I realize we had walked towards each other, and are almost nose-to-nose, watching each other through narrowed eyes, daring each other to blink. Suddenly a deer running through the woods breaks our staring contest, and I turn towards the sound immediately. I quickly shoot the deer straight in the heart, and it falls. I smile smugly at Derek, then stick my tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes as if he could care less.
We walk towards my game, and he hits his head on the branch of a tree. Hard. That's what he gets for being so freakishly tall. He falls down on the soft grass as I make my way towards him, laughing the whole time.
I reach out my hand to help him up, and he takes it, glaring at me for enjoying his pain.
"Are you okay?" I ask, with only the barest hint of sincerity in my voice.
"I've had worse incidents, I just can't think of any." He says, shrugging. I walk swiftly towards my deer, and with Derek's help, I put it in my game bag.
"Here." I say, handing the bag with the deer in it to him. "You can have it." This is my way of saying 'I trust you, but I still don't like you'.
"Really?" He says, and his eyebrows shoot up so high, they're almost lost in his hair.
"Yes, really. Just don't keep on stealing the rest of my game." I say, hoping the message isn't lost to him as he looks over the deer, pulling out the arrow and handing it to me.
"So...hunting partners?" He asks me, with a somewhat hopeful expression.
"What?" I say, almost forgetting how to breathe.
"I asked you to be my hunting partner. At least we could divide our game evenly, then."
"Oh... okay. I guess." I say, still too shocked to mantain my usual, too-cool-to-care demeanor.
"Great. See ya." He says, slinging the game bag over his shoudler.
"Bye." I say, barely even hearing myself.
Only when I was half-way home, it hit me, I had a hunting partner.
-Let's Pretend This is a Line, Okay? -
When I arrived home, I saw my little brother painting. I tip-toed over to him, and put my hands over his eyes.
"AHHH! MOM! DAD! PEOPLE ARE ATTACKING! AHHH!" I laughed at his over dramatizing, and removed my hands from his eyes.
"Relax, Jer. It's just me." I say hugging him.
"Oh. It's just you. Good. Now, go! I'm painting!" He says, shooing me away.
For the first time, I look at his painting, and realize it's me.
In his painting, I'm running through the woods, a perfect look of concentration on my face. My hair is blowing in the wind, and I'm holding my bow and arrows pointing straight ahead of me so you can see that I'm chasing prey. I've never taken him hunting with me, so how could he possibly know how I looked when I was following prey?
"How did you do this? I've never taken you hunting..." I say, still in awe of the correct-ness of his painting.
"I just imagined it." He says with a shrug. "Now, leave! I didn't want you to see it 'till it was finished, but...just leave, Lilah, okay?" He says, now looking a bit annoyed.
"Fine." I say with an indignant 'hmph'. I make my way to my bedroom.
I open the white door, and am welcomed by the familliar sight.
My bed is blue, the color of the sky during midnight. My closet, small as ever, stands in the corner opposite my bed. I see my table, with all my important things in it's compartments. I throw my bow and sheath of arrows on the table, and myself on the bed.
Today has been tiring. I went to the woods to hunt, only to find out that some boy has snared all my prey. I shot a deer, then gave it said boy. Then that boy became my first hunting partner. This was a very weird day.
I fall alseep thinking that, without even showering, eating dinner, or changing my clothes. I fall asleep, thinking of the strange boy I met in the woods.