Chicory Flowers in the Field is the sequel to "A daisy in the arena".

It takes place about seven years after the 93rd Hunger Games, after Chicory whitnessed her sister compete. So, without further adew, here's what happens next!

past flashbacks present

PROLOGUE:

"I'm scared, Zev."

He kisses her back and strokes her red hair. And starts singing her the lullaby. The same one she sang him, the one that made him fall in love with her.

His voice isn't as pretty as my sister's but it's clear and strong, save a few sniffs now and then.

Asterae's eye's blink a few times as she looks at the sun through the trees. They close slowly as the last words escape from Zev's trembling mouth.

"I love you."

Her canon fires.

Zev screams and howls in pain, crying,hugging her body kissing her cheeks rocking her like the boy from eleven did for the beat up girl from nine. The minutes roll one after the other.

Finally her lets her go, puts her body down. Letting it sleep. Then, before Delphi can even react (but how can she? She's just sitting there, immoblelized) he picks up his knife and his eyes fixed on my sister, plunges it into his heart. His canon fires. Trumpets bang in the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the winner of the 93rd Hunger Games!"

"From District Four, Delphi Fae!"

It's raining outside. Very common for late summer. I walk out the house, the one my sister left so empty, cold and ghostly, and step into the pouring rain. Like a sleepwalker, I go to the field, the chicory field. I'm soaking wet before I reach it but I don't care. The rain washes the tears that fall from my eyes as I fall to my knees in the long grass. The daisies grew and doubled in numbers since she left. Now the field is speckled with white and blue flowers. With the loud sobs coming from my body, the rain freezing me all the way to my core, I lie down and shiver, convulsing like Rory sometimes does in his fits. It's been hours when the rain falls less hard and someone finds me, curled up, clutching a bunch of daisies. Penny. I must look terrible but I don't care at all. There aren't anymore tears for my eyes to cry. She kneels next to me, lifts me up and hugs me tightly as if she's scared I might fly away. "I found her!" she cries with alarm, and a group of people come and carry me home. To my empty, cold, ghostly home...

The flashbacks have increased lately. Its been years since then. I'm fifteen now, grown up, "turning into a lovely young lady" or so they say.

But I died with my sister in the arena, seven years ago. At least, part of me did. I grew up extraordinarally quickly after that, both physically and mentally. As if tiny, young Chicory did indeed die in the arena, leaving a hole to be filled in her old body. Since then, my mother was heartbroken both by my sister's death and then again when my father died four years ago. Mine explosion. Didn't notice his canary had...stopped singing. Like my sister had stopped. My mother had been working, doing laundry for others, cooking in some places and making teas and selling them. But she never went back to work after Father died. I guess the shock was too great for her. She just sits in bed or in the rocking chair all day, staring into space. So I had to care for myself and her. I could have just sat there with my mother, I did at first, but something my sister had said in the arena somehow kept me going.

"Keep Walking".

I didn't know what to do when my father died. After my heart healed somewhat, I went to the fence that surrounded the district, by instincts. I felt trapped, like I a bird desperate to escape the cage. I was looking for a hole in the fence when I remembered my sister once told me that the electric currant in the fence sounded like a hum, the buzz of a bumblebee. In District Twelve, we only got a few hours of electricity anyway. I cautiously stepped closer to the barbwire fence: it was silent. Heart pounding, I took a deep breath and left district twelve.

The meadow. Much more vast than my sister's little field. I was breathless because the air of freedom couldn't enter my lungs. The air that smelled of rain, of trees, of dirt and wild flowers. I ran into the grass, tripped into the sea of the wild. I looked back to the fence. The district was so different from this angle. I walked until I came upon a small group of fruit trees. We had some in the district but they never bore any fruit. One bite of an apple sent chills in my throat. The sweet, tangy juice spilled and I devoured three more. I picked two dozen apples from the tree and carried them home in my long skirt. I kicked the door open and went to my mother who was still in bed, staring at the ceiling. I made her eat an apple and from then on I slowly learned how to fend for the both of us.

That winter, an older boy from the Seam was in the woods hunting with a bow. He'd also set traps, snares like the ones from the Games. I watched him from behind a tree and he mistook me for a meal and shot an arrow right at me. It lodge in the tree, thankfully. I pulled it out and gave back to him.

"Where did you get your bow? How do you know how to make snares?" I asked shakily.

"From my father. Taught me a lot, when he was alive." he said.

"Could you?"

"Could I what?"

"T-teach me?"

He took a good long look at me. I think he recognized me, because he knew my sister, maybe. And finally, he said:

"Sure."

His name was Nathan but as we grew familiar with eachother, I nicknamed him Nate. His hair was strangely blond and his eyes the brightest shade of blue. Like the sky, like chicory flowers. He had a family of three to feed with his hunting. His mother, his little sister and himself. A big responsibility for a seventeen year old: apparently, he'd been hunting for eight years, six of them by himself, since his father died. His mother was like mine. Dead inside. We helped each other out, sharing our game, making sure no one in the other's family starved. We became friends.

I taught him to use the mockingjays as signals between us. Warning calls, telling each other the time, etc. Thanks to him, by spring that year I could hunt as well as he did. I showed him the fruit trees and as thanks, he made me a bow.

Hunting partners, Friends, Accomplices, Neighbors, two kids from the Seam.

Penny helped me too. Her father had grown very ill and stayed in bed most of the time, so she looked after of the shop with her mother who took care of her siblings as well. When I'd go to trade some game for supplies, she'd give me a little extra. And a piece of licorice. We talked at school again, and even ate lunch together.

Alfee jumps onto my bed, almost crushing my rib cage. I hadn't noticed how big he'd gotten. He pushes his head in my face, begging me to scratch him. I do and he melts in my arms. He's about as long as one of my legsand when he stands next to me his shoulders go up to the middle of my thighs. I first found him in the snow.

Three years ago, I was hunting in the woods in late winter, alone : Nate had cought a cold and needed bed rest. So I went out to hunt for both our families. It had been a few hours and not one animal had made itself noticed. I was heading back, empty handed when loud barks sent birds flying away. I ran to where it was coming from and found him. A coyote cub, trying his best to fend off a gray wolf. An adult coyote, probably its mother or father, lay in a small pool of blood. A bright red contrast on the white snow. Without thinking, I pulled an arrow and shot the wolf. Luckily, it hadn't had time to smell me. The cub was whining painfully and I pushed away the dead wolf and picked him up. He didn't try to bite me so I placed him in my jacket and zipped it shut, hoping my body heat was enough to warm his ice-cold body up. I brought him home, fed him and took care of him ever since. Nate suggested the name "Alfee". Said it meant "Wise Friend". Which Alfee is. I trained him to help me hunt and thanks to him, my game bag is never empty after a day's hunting.

"Hello Alfee. Is it morning already?" I ask him while I brush him silver and brown fur. His pelt is very valluable; it could buy me and my mother two months of coal and oil! But what is that compared to all the game he brings me? As well as his unconditional love for me.

I get up and see my mother in the doorway. Usually, I'm up hours before she is, and I wonder if I've overslept. I have because I realize it's almost one in the afternoon. I see she's carrying a chicory-blue dress and a matching ribbon. She's even embroydered a little chicory and a daisy on the upper-left pocket, right where my heart is. After a quick bath, she braids my brown-red hair and puts it up, holding it with numerous pins. She weaves in the ribbon and lets me look at the result. I'm beautiful. I slip into the dress and we both head out to the public square. Alfee comes and follows me on my heels, like I've taught him to (so he doesn't go wander everywhere). My sister's necklace hangs from my neck. The capitol sent us her earring with her body. It hangs, from my left ear.

The mayor welcomes us and I go stand with everyone else. I tell Alfee to go with my mother.

Our district's escort, Leefa Pipkins, walks onto the stage. She's from the capitol and has never, ever worn the same style once. This year she's wearing a funny looking white bird on her mountain of pale yellow hair. Her outfit is matched in color and a stitched white bird flies on her chest, one of its wings turning into a feathered sleeve. Our district's mentor, an aging man in his fifties, sits in a chair. He won the 66th Games at the age of eighteen, thirty-four years ago. Which makes him fifty-two. Leefa walks, well, hops on her incredibly high heels, to the front of the stage, to the microphone that has been placed between the two glass bowls.

One for the boys, one for the girls. One, I think, containing my name sixteen times for the Tessera I've had to sign up for and for the four years I've been eligible for the games. Nate's name is in neither since he is now twenty-one, therefore safe. But his little sister Hannah, who's thirteen, isn't. Nate never let her take any Tessera so she has good odds though.

Leefa taps the microphone and speaks in her silly Capitol accent.

"Welcome everyone, to this year's 100th edition of the Hunger Games! For this year's fourth quarter-quell and 100th anniversary, we've made certain rule changes!"

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please Review! :)