As I walk through the field, my hands graze the stalks of wheat, feeling the prickly texture on the pads of my fingers. The cold earth beneath my bare feet finds its way into the cracks beneath my toes and under my toenails. The sun slowly starts to rise behind the forest of trees, a warm haze of light cascading over the open area. A cool breeze floats past me in the air and ruffles the curls of my dark black hair, tickling my neck. I know it will be time to go in soon, but I long to stay here, in this moment, safe from the coming day. But I know it will not last. A mockingjay interrupts my thoughts, its high and chirpy voice breaking the silence of the beings around it. It hums a simple tune, one I know well. I echo it back to the bird, and, like it was born to do, it reflects it back. It suddenly lifts its body into the air, flapping its wings, and flies off to a place I do not know. It is free, I think, it can go anywhere it likes, only controlled by its own desires and needs.
I long to be like the bird.
As the bird floats away out of my sight, I am brought out of my early morning trace as I feel two light taps on my right shoulder. I turn my head to face the person who wants my attention, and see it is Branwen. An old woman, in her early sixties faces me. Her wrinkly face stares back at mine and a slight smile is drawn across it. She is a short woman, no taller than myself, and she wears a worn-down, tan dress that cuts a few inches above her ankles. Her skin shows a tiredness that most people in District 11 have, though also a warmth and kindness.
"Rue dear, I hear today is a very special day for you," she says. Her voice is soft and deep, as if every word that escapes her mouth is profound and should be taken with much seriousness. I nod my head in response. "I know it can seem daunting and scary, but trust me, it is not as bad as it seems." She extends her arm and grasps my hand in hers, the rough, dry feel of her skin strange next to the smoothness of mine. I nod again. "It is your first games. I wish I could tell you that I know you won't be reaped, but only God can make that promise," she pauses and closes her eyes, smiling, "but I have a good feeling about today."
For the first time today I speak, my voice rough and unused, "Me too." Though I don't like getting my hopes up, the odds are in my favor, at least compared to the rest of those in my district. My name is in there twice, a small number; a good number. Though I wish it was only in there once, I know our family would not be alive without the extra food the tesserae provided. Though I do not mind sacrificing part of myself for my family, I can't helped but be a little scared. Branwen senses my fear and pulls me into a hug. She smells of lemon and something more bitter—cinnamon maybe.
We release from the hug, and she tells me," Your mother must be worried where you ran off to, you'd best be getting back to her soon." I nod as I did before.
"I just wanted to come out here one more time, just incase. I know the peacekeepers and more workers will be coming out here soon so I wasn't planning on staying very long but—"
She cuts me off saying, "I completely understand. Before my first reaping I snuck out of the house before my father woke and went to my mother's garden. I plucked off a piece of lavender and tucked it in my dress pocket. I still have it pressed against a glass frame in my bedroom, and it reminds me of her, just like I imagine that grain of wheat reminds you of Alto." She knows me well. I smile again and nod in response.
Alto was like a brother to me. He was a couple years older than I was, though our ages were our only difference. He was kind and sweet and always happy. Every once and a while, he would give me a grain of wheat that he had formed into a flower of sorts and place it in my hair. He was thoughtful like that, and was always happy. Even the morning of his last reaping, he was smiling all the way. He told me he felt good about his odds, and said that once the reaping was over he would take me out into the town and would buy me one item of my choosing. I was as excited as he was, though that excitement soon disappeared, and was replaced with fear when his name was picked for the games. I started at him as he walked up to the stage, pleading him to turn around and look at me. Somehow, he knew, and found my eyes in the crowd. He blinked hard and smiled weakly, as if to say, I'll miss you. That was the last time I saw him. He died the first day of the games during the bloodbath. I still come out to the field sometimes and try to make a flower like he would, though it never looks as pretty.
Branwen grabs my hand again and starts to lead us out of the field and back towards the town. "Well, I'm sure everything will turn out just fine," she says breaking the silence, and even though I don't want to get my hopes up, I believe her.