I grin fondly at the little boy snuggled up against me. My allies and I have managed to survive the first day of the Hunger Games. I should be grateful for that, but I'm still a bit resentful towards fate for putting me in this death frenzy in the first place.

I survey our camp. The small pile of sticks, leaves, and rocks that we used to kindle and control the fire is charred and burnt. One of my allies, Storm Raiden of District 7, is wrapped up in a sleeping bag. His body is stiff, and he isn't moving, so he must be awake. My eyes fall on the little 12-year-old boy from District 6, Gage Adams, snuggled against me. We are wrapped in a thin blanket on the cold, hard ground and the sun is slowly rising into the sky. As if Gage's body senses that it's morning, his eyes open wearily.

"Morning," I say, putting on my best smile for Gage. He's too young and innocent for these Games. He'd never known what it meant when he'd watched them, and he was unaware that the three of us could die at any moment. I glance around warily to be sure that we're safe, at least for now.

Storm props himself up on his elbow and Gage grins at the pair of us. It's a blissful, content grin that makes me think, for just a moment, that we aren't in any danger. But I know better.

Murmurs of greeting ripple throughout our trio as I dig through our backpack for my bow and arrow. We ate the little food we managed to get yesterday, and we need all the energy we can get if we're going to survive.

"Don't bother," Storm says. He walks over to me and reaches for the backpack, unzipping a small pocket and pulling out a sack of berries. "There's a bush not too far from here. I collected these last night… Couldn't sleep." He lowers his voice on the last two words, so Gage won't hear. I look at him knowingly.

"Hey, Gage," I call. "Storm got us some breakfast. Hungry?"

He smiles and makes his way over to us. I don't dole out much of our precious food supply, but I'm slightly more generous with Gage's. He's not used to hunger. Storm and I, we can go a few days without a meal. We won't complain. But we've vowed to protect Gage with our lives. And if that means skipping a few meals, then we don't mind.

"I don't get it," Gage says suddenly. "If this is a game, then what are the rules? How do we win?"

I'm torn between laughter and tears, so I stay silent instead. It's Storm to the rescue.

"Well," he begins, "the rules are pretty complicated. There are different teams, you see, but they aren't all equal. Some people aren't even on a team. Some of the players try to win by themselves. There's one team that has lots of people and more supplies than everyone else. The three of us – you, me, and Wren – we're a team. We've got to do our best to surv- to win."

Gage's eyebrows furrow together and a look of confusion crosses his face. "So, how do we win?"

Storm looks at me, and I say the first thing that pops into my head. "It's like tag! Yeah, um, tag. You have to run away from anyone who isn't on your team. And you tag them with these, um… These taggers!" I hold up my bow and arrow. "You tag the other players with taggers. And when a hovercraft comes to pick them up, that means that they're out. If that happens to me or Storm, then don't worry. That just means we weren't good enough to win. You'll see us again."

Gage smiles. "I think I get it! So this is all just pretend?"

"Yeah," Storm says. "If you hit someone with a," he glances pointedly at me, "tagger, they're just pretending it hurt. It's all part of the game."

"Oh!" Gage exclaims. "So if I punched you, it wouldn't hurt?"

Storm sighs quietly and I bite back a laugh. Now that he's said it, he has to go along with it. "Nope," he says cheerily. "It wouldn't hurt a bit!"

Gage laughs delightedly and punches Storm in the stomach. He is strong for a 12-year-old, but to Storm's credit, he manages to grin the whole time. "See?" Storm says. "I'm fine!"

I grin at them, and wish that this all really is just game. What am I going to do if I lose Storm? What if Gage dies? I push the awful thoughts out of my mind and survey my makeshift family. We really are like a family, in a way.

Gage is like the naïve, innocent little brother who everyone loves. We have to protect him, and look out for him. We keep him safe from the "bullies" of the Hunger Games.

Storm is the protective older brother who saw things as they were. Everything was black and white in his world. He'd do anything for our family, and I knew it.

I, Wren, am like the sarcastic, rebellious middle sister. I am still figuring things out and finding my way. I love my family, even though I don't always admit it, and take care of most motherly duties.

I love our family, and looking at them, I know I won't be able to kill them. Any other tribute would be dead by my bow with a single arrow, but I couldn't imagine stabbing Gage or poisoning Storm.

But I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, I'm just happy to keep my family safe.

I really like this piece. It's one of my favorite HG stories on my computer. This is supposed to be a feel-good one shot about an alliance in the Hunger Games. Thoughts? Love it? Hate it? Think I should be in jail for writing something so astonishingly terrible? I might make this into an actual story because I really like this alliance and it might make an interesting tale to tell. What do you think?

Leave your thought in a review!

~ChrissyGrace