A.N: Thought I'd reach into my mind and revise an awesome story that I thought up with myself other account. Similarities are present, and since I've improved my writing, revisiting this plot bunny seemed right. This is an AU, with no rebellion, no Katniss and no Peeta. (This will start with the reaping, flashbacks will be present.) Focused on a couple of characters. Starts with the 25th Hunger Games- It will be a short intro as it's passover, but I'll update soon...

District 2:

Zarra Fang

The day, in District 2, was for once imperfect for the Reaping. The clouds were gray and heavy, the sun barely shining. The wind whipped throughout the valleys created by the mountains. After all, The Hunger Games were back for another year, with only one to return. District 2 hasn't had a winner in 3 years, which angers everyone. We were entitled to win, we were, are Careers, training for this for our whole lives. It's now the 1st annual Quarter Quell, the 25th year of these games.

It hasn't gotten any easier for some since the Dark Days. These Games, watching our children fight to the death, and now its even more vicous, being voted, elected to be reaped in these special games.

For myself, it's worse. I'm an outcast, my family comes from a line of weapons makers, smithers living on one of the outside villages. I was scarred by a muttant white wolf with crimson eyes, managing to kill it with my swords. Peacekeepers are only allowed to have weapons, and also secretly the training center that trains us tributes, who are handpicked each year. I recovered from my ordeal, and am afraid of wolves ever since.

I had hobbled to the Victor's Village, bleeding, fainting on the doorstep of the recent victor of the 22nd Hunger Games. He was once my best friend in school, yet we trained differently. His name is Jason Hunter, winning by killing all the Careers that murdered his ally from District 7. He isn't a true killer, but is haunted by the lion muttations that prowled the savanna of his arena. Different than most of us from district 2.

Speaking of District 2, Jason and I are in a not so secret relationship, so people target me. It's a given that the Capitol mustn't know. We've come to the consensus that when I'm reaped, that he'll make sure I'll come back.

Jason will kill himself if I don't. I'm sure of that.

I'm also scarred on my right arm and back, not my face, so I'm regarded as a must for coming into these Games. At the tribute training, I excel at throwing knives and the bow and arrow, with also my main talent in stealth and endurance with precision. I also handle dual swords well enough and a sword staff better than who my district partner will be, Asher. He's tall and strong, yet also arrogant. I'm better than that- I'm not overconfident-it's not something that becomes my weakness.

Our escort reaps Asher Donavan's name, then reaps the other slip of paper- my name- Zarra Fang is heard. I walk up, since no volunteers are allowed, and shake hands with him. I go to the train, wondering how I'll be able to come back to my district.

All I know is that I'll be changed.