Chapter One

The wooden clock on the mantelpiece chimed softly. Noting the time, I slipped out of bed, unwilling to relinquish the cocoon of warmth, and slipped on my clothes in the scarce moonlight. My uncle snored softly in the corner, swathed in her thin blanket. I kissed him softly on the cheek. Crouching, I reached under the bed, letting my fingers touch the dusty floorboards blindly, searching for my leather bag. My fingers grasped the strap and I shouldered the pack. I unhooked my parka, a rare luxury in this part of the land, the name of which is Panem.

Opening the door, the cold night wind seeped into my bones. I put my parka on, savouring the warmth. I shut the door as softly as I could, not wanting to disturb my uncle's peaceful sleep. When he wakes, all he worries about is me. But right now, his dreams are his focus.

My focus isn't to sneak out in the dead of night or meet with my lover. It isn't to slip into the shadows and become a thief, either. I am a student. A school student. Now, you ask, what kind of school student goes to school in the middle of the night?

I am part of the forbidden generation.

You may remember that Katniss Everdeen was the Mockingjay, and struck against the Capitol, leading an army to give out freedom and relieve the people of the wretched Hunger Games. That was generations ago. Reign was peaceful for a few years, until that godforsaken tyrant took over. We didn't have a choice. Even though he didn't take over by force and weapons, the suspicious way that all his opponents fell by mysterious circumstances gave us enough information that if we didn't kneel and obey, woe befall us.

So of course we had to obey.

The dictator enforced a rule, when overpopulation threatened to dominate, that a family can only have one child, and every family must do so. This is because there are still too many hungry mouths to feed, too many complaints or pleads for more. We aren't replacing each of us enough, therefore, the population with gradually lessen.

The 'Forbidden Child' rule was enforced strictly. Any family with more than one child was punished, and the 'forbidden' children were taken away and never seen again. Peacekeepers were paid well to check on families. Back then, when each family had about three 'forbidden children', they were taken away, but the dictator finally got sick of executing kids in his front yard. Maybe it put him off his food. But it's ridiculous, seeming that even with a smaller population than years ago, we still have plenty of people curling up and dying of starvation.

But anyway, the tyrant is a keen historian. So of course, he knew about the Katniss-Everdeen-triumphed-over-the-Capitol thing. He also knew about the Hunger Games. So instead of seeing kids being shot to death in front of his face, he could now eat in enjoyment, watching the kids kill each other on live television. All this did was infuriate the families more because some kids in there were brothers and sisters to each other, forced to hack each other to death for gruesome enjoyment. The winner of that first round of the Hunger Games had to kill her brother, who told her to do so. The first thing she did when she got out of the arena was shoot herself, unable to take the shame.

So now, the idea of sending kids to the Hunger Games is enough to repulse the parents into only having one kid. But there are some stories about things being lenient in the other districts, the ones closer to the Capitol. Some families can have two kids. But in here, District Twelve, there can be no such thing. Because, according to the Capitol, we aren't educated enough and can't afford to have more than one kid. But everyone knows the Capitol uses that as an excuse for the real reason. They're afraid of the outer districts. We could breed like rats and have enough people to overpower the Capitol. But the rule prevents us from doing so. That's probably the only thing stopping us from marching over to the tyrant's chamber and slitting his throat ourselves.

I have two younger siblings. Twins. We all look like each other. Except for the clothes we wear. My clothes are shabby. Their clothes are colourful and crisp. My mother and father get by well enough. In fact, their house is big, with enough room and no cold wind manages to seep in at night. Unlike my aunt's hut, with the draught slipping through the gaps and holes.

I don't exist.

I have an older brother, Thomas. We're very close. He now works in the coal mine to support his wife, Sarah. She can't have a baby, and apparently there's medication that could help her get pregnant from the Capitol. But it's very expensive. Even as district twelve's nurse, she doesn't get paid enough. And my brother's job. Every day I pray that the coal mine doesn't become his grave. Too many people rely on him to live. People like me. Like Dad. Like his wife. And almost-son.

My parents hid me from Peacekeepers. But I became too old to hide in the closet where I slept. My parents planned to give me to another couple with no kids.

Then my mother got pregnant. Of course, this was forbidden. Her child would have to be aborted. She refused. So did my father. Eventually, the Peacekeepers were dragged into the argument and in the scuffle somehow, my father was injured. My parents were left alone, because the others thought that she only had one child: the one she was pregnant with.

Knowing I was no longer safe in that district, my parents split up, my father pretended to be a widower and went back to the district he was born and raised in, raising me there as well. My brother, as soon as he was old enough, came as well, to help me care for my father as he became ill and bedridden. I became known as the daughter with no mother. The girl with the bedridden father. I grew up and was one day told that my mother were actually rich, with a house and I had two younger siblings, one boy, one girl. I live in district twelve, were almost everyone is poor.

My other family lives in the Capitol.

I don't like my mother. I hardly talk about her. According to my father, I had gotten my distinctive reddish hair from her. The roots of my hair are dark brown like my father's by it starts to get more auburn to the tips. Only in the sunlight, though. District twelve is too dark for colour to show. I have my father's olive skin- the colour of the seam. My eyes are also my mother's- green.

In district twelve, I am not the only forbidden child. There are many others like me, lurking around in the shadows, fleeing when the head Peacekeeper, a cold-hearted person with the name of Manley, does his rounds. The others pity us. Maybe it's because we supply half of their food, wandering on the other side of the 'electrified' fence until we stumble upon a rich area of trees bearing fruits. When they search for us, there is no other place to go. Occasionally, a forbidden child would make a run for it, but they would be found on TV a couple of weeks later, as a silent Avox waiting behind one of the Capitol's rich bastards waiting for a command. Maybe all you could find of them are dried smithereens of blood and skin. If the cold doesn't kill them first.

It's always a pain seeing someone you know ending up like that.

On my way to the square, I darted behind houses, leap over fences, climb trees, scale the roofs and stick to thick patches of grass. I'm not supposed to exist, and I try hard not to. Random footsteps found by the head Peacekeeper will be immediately investigated. It will include another round of searching for forbidden kids. The others won't appreciate it, seeming that we spent a couple of days in the woods hiding from the head Peacekeeper only a week ago.

I headed over to supposedly electric fence and find the hole cleverly hidden by a couple of berry bushes. I kept walking until I reach a fork in the track. I know which way to go. I've gone the same way for three years. The path is dotted with dead leaves, illuminated by moonlight. It's familiar surroundings. Still, I looked for the correct hollow log and found my weapons, still wrapped in waterproof material. I strapped the dagger and sheath to my waist, tied the sword and its sheath to the strap on my bag and strung the bow, placing the arrows in the bag.

Weapons are illegal. But they are what is keeping me from starvation. Lose weapons, lose hope. I bring food home using them. The sword and dagger are my father's. The dagger is about ten inches long, wickedly sharp. The handle is wire-wrapped and has the picture of a dragon engraved near it. The tip is curved slightly, giving it a more sinister edge. The sword is about three-quarters of the length of my leg. The black-coloured wood handle fits perfectly in my hand. Both are weapons made of glimmering silver. If sold, they could bring me about half a year's worth of grain. But if I keep them, I can guarantee at least three squirrels every day.

The bow is simple wood. The arrows are silver-tipped. A present from my father to my brother on his twelfth birthday. But because he's too busy working at the mines, he gave them to me. For two months, he spent every Sunday (the day he isn't working) teaching me how to shoot. I was only ten years old then. But now, at fifteen, I could shoot three squirrels through the neck with one arrow without trying.

I don't bother with snares, when I can nail several animals with my dagger and arrows without even breaking a sweat.

I heard a faint rustling and my arrow is aimed in the bushes in a quarter of a second. A curious creature, grey with floppy ears hopped out of the plant, staring quizzically at my arrow. I recognised it. It recognised me, too. The girl who kills her kin for food. Before it could spring back into the shadows, my arrow pins it in the eye mid-hop.

Yippee. Breakfast.

I wrapped the rabbit and placed it in my bag. The good thing about being poor: you appreciate what's put in front of you.

I looked around, just in case someone was following me. Seeing and hearing nothing, I took a couple of steps forward but thought better of it. Manley's last lenient punishment was whipping a twelve-year-old boy ten times for stealing a small bite-sized piece of bread from the bakery bins. He'd been tough on dishing out punishments lately.

Slinging my bow over my shoulder, I seized a branch of a nearby tree and scamper up like a monkey. I was good at getting fruits from the top of trees. Others, with their weight, would break the branches and their necks. I was thin and nimble. A light tread and lithe movement is needed to be a good hunter.

I made my way to the meeting area by leaping from branches. I didn't even shake a leaf.

Meetings are unpredictable, but there are always a couple every week. There is no pattern, so people watching would struggle to catch us out. Every meeting, someone is chosen to be the caller. The caller has the responsibility of setting out a time and place for the lessons. Also, when we meet up at the meeting place, the caller is the first to emerge from his or her hiding place. That way, if someone followed a member to the meeting place, the caller would be just a lone person. Not everyone would be caught out. It's a big sacrifice. Tonight, I was the caller.

The meeting place was a clearing just like others in the woods. A fifteen minute walk from it was a gigantic rock jutting out of the ground. It took about ten minutes to scale up to the cave at the top where we had our lessons.

The mentor was a woman, also a forbidden child herself called Teah. She was middle-aged, and she had a child of her own, a nine-year-old called Allie. Teah was usually a hushed story of inspiration in district twelve, seeming that it is rare to find a forbidden child reach adulthood. Allie joined us on our adventures occasionally, other times she just stayed home.

I reached the clearing. I stay perched on my branch, not making a sound. After a while, I leant back against the trunk and strung my bow again. I took a couple of deep breaths. Making a split second decision, I leapt from the tree and landed on the ground standing, my arrow pointed into the darkest parts of the forest.

I held my breath. This was the crucial part.

Then my friends emerged from the trees, grinning and likewise decorated with weapons, but their grip was relaxed. Mine did too at the sight of them.

They were all there. Except for Allie, as Teah appeared first without her in sight. Vena, a whizz at throwing knives and daggers. Peyton, my best friend and fellow hunter. Zavier, the guy who never shut up. Tammin, the girl I hated and couldn't possibly count as a friend. Hilton, the weak-link in the group, no surprise that he's never chosen to be caller. Gill, a big brute who looked like his whole life was about pulverising people to death: he certainly looked like it. But everyone in the group knew he was a softie. If he were a tribute in the Hunger Games, he'd be a real contender. I'd back him up with my own money, if I had enough. Julia, the youngest of us, side by side with her older brother, Nyal. Kinley came in last, his finger tracing a pattern on the handle of his sheathed dagger.

Peyton skipped over and took her place by my side. She grinned at me.

Vena's lips twitched at the sight of me and went over to Tammin. Vena wasn't one to smile. Rumour was that she used to, but the coal mine put a stop to it. Her father's body was never found.

Tammin scowled and rested a hand on the knife at her belt. My fingers curled tighter around my bow.

Zavier was talking, as always, yammering to Gill, who was probably the only one of us who had the patience to listen. Hilton hovered next to him, drinking in every word, his pale skin even paler in the silver light of the moon.

Julia waved at me. She was probably the only one who didn't have a weapon. She was only ten. Her brown curls were always in pigtails, but since her first day, we've never let her hairstyle fool us. She's district twelve's sweetheart. She never has to worry about not being fed. Too many people adore her. She stayed next to her brother and tugged on his hand, pointing in my direction.

I looked away. Nyal was sixteen, a year older than me, with brown hair darker than his sister Julia's. He also had an older brother who worked at the mines. He had another younger sister, about only three months old. He had a smile that made me melt.

I tried not to think about him too much.

There was the sound of a sword being unsheathed. Teah stepped forward, face grim, sword reflecting moonlight. She had everyone's attention at once.

Gradually the clearing became quiet.

"What's wrong, Teah?" Zavier asked. It always seemed to be his job to break silences like these.

Teah, swift and lethal, swung her sword around so fast that it was only a silver blur. When my eyes focused, the sword was jammed into the ground and a branch the thickness of my arm had been lopped off the nearest tree.

"Nothing," she said. "Let's learn, my non-existing students." She stalked off into the woods.

Everyone looked at each other warily and followed her in. Teah had never lost her temper before. This was a new situation.

The lesson was, in normal forbidden child speak, boring. She taught us to climb to the top-most branch of several high trees. I excelled at this. She taught us to recognise edible plants in the forest, even though she'd already taught us this a week ago. Peyton and I discussed what could be bothering her.

"It's probably personal," I said, giving up, after realising that our theories were ridiculous.

"Duh," Peyton whispered, only half-listening to Teah's bland description of blueberries.

The two hour lesson was one of the most boring lessons we'd had, seeming that Teah's heart was obviously not in it.

I watched Nyal pick off a couple of blueberries from a bush and pass them to Julia. A small pang of longing struck me as I remembered my brother doing the same years ago when I was only ten. We had ventured out into the woods as a desperate attempt for food. Our hunger was almost overwhelming. I had sucked in my breath and pushed aside all memories of stories of mauled people who had gone into the forest beyond the fence. We'd found berries, greens and my brother had managed to catch a squirrel. When we went home, it turned out to be the most fulfilling meal we'd had in weeks.

Over the months I had become to trust the woods more than the people in the district. I spent more time there, especially after my father would have a seizure of a sort, I'd use the forests as my escape. Once, while hunting with my brother's bow (I had been getting pretty good with it) I chanced upon Teah and her group of forbidden children. It had only consisted of Peyton, Gill (still huge), and yes- Nyal, back then. It had been while Teah was training them to hunt. I had shot down a deer. I had been surprised when a couple of daggers sprang through the trees at me in response. Only my experience of darting away from people had me running out of there alive. Since then, I had joined the group.

Nyal's brown eyes flickered over to meet mine. I turned away. Still feeling his gaze, I struck up a conversation with Gill, which was easy with Zavier around. The conversation was up and running, only needing a couple of nods and one-syllable words to keep it going.

Teah told us that we had the Hunter Games next week before dismissing us. The Hunter Games is a kind of parody for the Hunger Games, except we benefit more. We kill animals instead, taking home and eating our shots. Though I wouldn't complain for having a reason to stick a dagger into Tammin.

I reminded her that I wouldn't be here for the next two weeks. I would be in the Capitol. The place where I face possible death while in the comfort of my family. Awesome.

Peyton and I said goodbye to the others and delved deeper into the woods to hunt.

"So…" Peyton began, in a tone of voice that told me that she was about to start a conversation about a topic that I wouldn't like to talk about. I strung my bow, having just shot down two squirrels.

I didn't say anything, letting my concentration focus on finding animals for today's meal. It was almost dawn.

"…what are you going to do about- you know?"

Sometimes it was hard to understand Peyton when she talked this way. Her tone of voice, though, was what alerted me.

"No, I don't," I said, playing dumb.

"Nyal," she said simply.

"What about him?" An arrow whizzed into a nearby tree and another squirrel fell out, an arrow embedded in one of its eyes. I placed it in a burlap sack along with the other potential meals.

"What are you going to do?"

"About what?" Because Peyton hardly talked in full sentences, I was good at avoiding answers. We could go all day and she'd still have trouble stringing together a full question that I couldn't play dumb to.

Peyton sighed. "Don't do that to me, Lanie."

"Do what?" Two rabbits are speared through the eye with one arrow. I put them in the sack as well. Satisfied that my father and I would sleep with full stomachs tonight, I decided to make our way down to our favourite spot, where dozens of bushes were always filled with berries, and greens were always fresh.

"Don't change the subject," Peyton said, following me.

"What subject?"

"The subject about Nyal."

"What about it?" See what I meant? About being able to take all day just for one topic of conversation?

"Wait," Peyton said. The sing-song tone of her voice had stopped.

"What?" I turned around. We weren't far from the clearing.

"Look," she said, pointing to the ground at her feet.

I stepped forward and squinted at the mud.

"Careful," Peyton warned.

I cleared away the trampled dried leaves with a light brush of my hand. Kneeling, I recognised the shape of the prints in the still wet mud. Deer tracks. And it looked like three of them.

"Deer?"

"Yeah, it looks like," she agreed.

"The mud's still wet," I noted.

"Which means-"

"-they only passed about a couple of minutes ago," I finished, eyes wide. Deer? It could keep me and my father going for about two weeks with one deer, seeming that the tracks were deep, showing that the treader was heavy. Selling it could get supplies that could last about a month at most. This was a forbidden-child-from-district-twelve style of jackpot.

"Let's go," I said, tearing away from the path to the clearing, on the lookout out for more deer tracks.

Did you like it? Please, I would love to know what you think, so please review. It would help me to improve the story and see if it's worth finishing. Thanks for reading it. Peace! :)