A/N- I don't own The Hunger Games.

Fuelling the Flame

It was not unusual to wake up in the morning to the sound of cattle and sheep lazily calling to each other. In fact, it would be considered strange to hear a noise other than that of livestock. Their sounds provided comfort to the inhabitants of District 10. The people of District 10 knew only of hard work, long days and intense heat. It would not be surprising to find out that at the end of the dark days, the Capitol picked the inhabitants based solely on the fact that they had a larger affinity with animals than humans. The people in District 10 found comfort in being able to wake every morning to see a wide expanse of green pastures and winding rivers, with a hint of salt and fertiliser on the winds that swayed the long grasses in unused paddocks. District 10 was able to find solace in the circle of life, in nature and being able to understand animals better than their human counterparts. Almost nothing could extinguish their simmering passion for the freedom of nature, except The Hunger Games. The games outweigh the irony of the fact that even though the district is the producer of the Capitols food the people in the districts go hungry. The games crush the spirit, and every year the inhabitants are forced to watch their happy go lucky children be killed like pigs at the local slaughterhouse.

It was a morning like any other at District 10, waking up at dawn to check the stock and other farming chores and for the townsfolk it involved opening up their shops in order to process the incoming meat. But at noon the District would stop and meet together at the town square for another reminder of the Capitols power, the reaping. It was enough to scare any parent and child over 12. For fear is a valuable weapon, and the Capitol use it well. Cynthia knows the pain of the Hunger Games, knows that the tributes never win and victors never return. Like clockwork every year, she makes the journey to the town square where she will watch as two tributes, one boy and one girl will be picked. Two children that are then intrusted to her, a victor, as their last hope for survival by parents who hope to see their family once again whole. Cynthia knows that this is a folly notion, that any child that is reaped never leaves the arena that the body returned to the families may be breathing but they are no longer alive.

She won the 67th Hunger Games at age 16. One of the youngest victors ever, she was charming and likeable enough but, like most victors she had enough ferocity and callousness to return home. She won through using her brute strength and broad knowledge of a wide range of weapons, with a personal favourite of knives. In a way she won by luck with the arena being very similar to her home district and her competitors weary of her high score in practice, an unheard of 9 for non-careers. From the beginning she knew that the only way for her to survive was to outsmart and outrun her competitors, so once the 60 second count down had ended she had sprung from her podium and swiftly ran to the cornucopia where she grabbed knives, swords and a survival backpack before racing off into the wilderness. She knew better than to stick around for the bloodbath or rely on allies to keep her alive, she would do her killing at the end when her competitors were tired and paranoid. It would be easiest to slip under their defences then, and it was. Because it took 3 days for the final 6 to be removed from her path of freedom, but it was then when she was met with the harsh light of reality that she realised what it had cost to come out of the arena still breathing, that you cannot kill children and expect your soul to remain.

But her auburn hair and womanly build had created a stir within the Capitol. Her whit and dangerous demeanour made her desirable in the way that she was viewed as a wild mustang that the people of Panem wanted to tame, wanted to control and most importantly wanted to have. But she was a victor, she believed that her sacrifice deserved recognition, and through her blinded arrogance she declined, most passionately, President Snow's offers. This foolhardy notion ended up destroying her more than any arena. It left her homeless, her family mysteriously dead by the end of the year. Her trusting younger sister and her brash teenaged brother along with her parents, the McLaughlin family was gone. She lived in a house full of memories; she did not dare to call it a home now, now that it was void of anything but herself and her demons. Now Cynthia knew the true meaning of hell. Hell was no longer a place to fear after death, but a place she was suddenly thrust into, it's the darkest parts of your soul, a part that consumes even the smallest shards of hope. She now knew that she was in complete control of the Capitol and that she will never escape its cold clutches.

For the past seven years she has watched her children, the ones that counted on her for survival, die in horrific and terrifying ways. She sees them every night and every morning simple things remind her of all that she has lost and all those that she could not save, there were never any odds because the Capitol never did anyone any favours. The Capitol only took until all that was left was nightmares and a shell of a soul that was haunted by the damned.

She still remembers when she first saw the Capitol, the trees and grass from District 10 seem to have been replaced with tall buildings and concrete roads, where the fashion was as gory as the Games itself. You see, a District 10 child finds no home in the manufactured and plastic or in gadgets and fine gowns. They require the freedom of the open ranges and the fresh breeze that chills in the winter and warms in the summer. She still remembers feeling a complete sense of untrust towards the people and their technology, because nothing could be more reliable than the seasons, the livestock and breeding, could it? You cannot control the Capitolites the way you can a mob of cattle and you cannot walk as freely in high heels as you can in worn out boots. She was primed and prodded and made a princess. Her clothes became edgy, because a true femme fatale needs to be seductive, mysterious and unattainable. Her cool attitude only sparked a flame of lust that insured her sponsors in the arena and the death of her family. Regret is a synonym to victor, regrets for living and surviving as well as for the deaths you cause during and after the games.

Her actions have led her here, at the podium where she watches first hand her Districts children being picked for an unwinnable game. The districts escort Fifi Jackson is dressed to the nines in pale blue, it matches with her soft pink wig that is bunched up high on the top of her head, and her face is surprisingly plain this year with only long eyelashes. Fifi pulls out the names that Cynthia and Denver, a fellow male tribute, will coach and hopefully get them out of the arena with their life. It is heart wrenching to know that at best, only one of these children will be coming home.

'Willow Bucket'

'Mace Galloway'

Two names, which before now did not hold a lot of meaning, two names that have now been added to the history pages as tributes of the 74rd Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favour…