I awake to a shaft of sunlight filtering in through my window. It is early, the sun just barely rising into the sky. Around the room I can see the sleeping forms of my three siblings. I'm glad that they didn't have any bad dreams during the night, not a peep out of Rory or Vick or even little Posy. I wouldn't blame them though. Today is the day of the reaping, which is enough to scare anyone, whether they'd admit it or not. A glance is enough to see that they are all still in a deep sleep, small chests rising softly to the rhythm of their heartbeats. They all look a bit like me, olive skin, dark hair and a small smirk turning up the corners of their mouths. Moving as quietly as possible, I pull on my hunting gear, grabbing a bag and filling it with the tools I need to make snares, strapping a knife to my belt and slinging the satchel over my shoulder. There is no time for me to eat, but I know where I can get something fast. I take a dead squirrel out of the larder and drop into my pack. On this particular day, folks tend to get a little more generous. Walking quietly but quickly past my mother's bedroom, I make my outside.

At this hour, the shops are just started to open and I've managed to beat the morning rush of coal miners. Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is the poorest section in the whole place; Maybe even in all of Panem. That kind of work can destroy a person, either figuratively or literally. If a cave in doesn't kill you like it did my father, then the day in day out shuffle will wear your fingers down to the bone and drive the last vestiges of brightness out of your eyes. I stop in front of the Mellark bakery, a small place near the border between the merchant sector and the Seam. The couple that run it are nice enough, and I've talked with their three sons a few times. But I happen to know the father has a taste for meat. He greets me warmly as I enter, and I nod, before plopping the squirrel onto the counter and asking what's it worth to him. He gives me a wry grin and then a loaf of freshly baked bread. I thank him and put it into my bag, before making my way out to the fence. There's a section that's been loose for a few years now, and I shimmy under it, grabbing a bow and a couple of arrows I fletched myself. They aren't as good as other hunters, but they get the job done. I keep walking until the fence vanishes behind me.

It's peaceful in the forest at this time of the morning. The river burbles quietly in the distance as I pluck strawberry after strawberry from the little thicket that they grow on. This place could be considered a secret; the rock ledge overlooking a valley and hidden away from prying eyes. Its illegal to be here too, but I've never that fact sway me from coming. Something moves in the bushes behind me, and I raise my head cautiously. It could just be a rabbit looking for berries, but it might be a Peacekeeper looking for those that dared to go beyond the fence. I have never liked those law enforcers, though the Head happens to be my best customer for wild turkey. As a rule though, they can't be trusted. But to my relief, its only my dearest friend and partner in crime. I've never seen her smile except when she's out here in the woods. "Hey Catnip." I call out with a smile of my own. Her real name is Katniss, but the first time we met she kind of muttered and I thought Catnip was what she said.

Then of course, this lynx started following her around when we were hunting a few years back and the name just kind of stuck. She's never come up with a nickname for me, and sometimes I wonder if there is one, she just doesn't say it out loud. I take one of my arrows out and stab the loaf of bread with it, holding it up for her to see. "Look what I shot." I say with a grin, watching as her eyes widen with happiness. She's had it rough, lost her father in the same accident that claimed mine, having to take care of her little sister and her mother the way I take care of my own family. We share an impromptu breakfast in the grass, nothing to worry about but filling our stomachs. Some time passes before I manage to get my words together. "It's reaping day." I say quietly. Her eyes dart away from mine and she stays silent. I can only guess as to what is going through her mind, but I press on. "Do you ever think about just leaving it all behind?" She shoots me a sardonic look before replying. "To where Gale? There's nothing out there." "But Catnip, we know how to fend for ourselves. We can hunt. We could run away." The look in her eye tells me that she doesn't agree.

"What about our siblings?"

"We'll take them with us."

"That's a dream Gale."

I fall silent, knowing that it will take a lot more for us to agree on this particular subject.. And soon, we will have to return to the district and ready ourselves for the reaping. I take a moment to stare at her when she isn't looking. I've always has a thing for her that goes deeper than just a physical attraction. Can't say I really know how she feels about me. Before I know it, we've gotten back to the main road and separated before we're missed. It takes some time to get ready, as the Capitol wants us all to look our best, like presents wrapped with bows for a party. The shuffle to the district square is so familiar that it's a wonder the feet of everyone living here hasn't worn a deep groove into the ground. Another thing that hasn't changed in years is the sickeningly bright colors that the district escort is wearing as she crosses the stage. The screens play the same old propaganda that I stopped paying attention to years ago. Rather, I stare at the frightened or resigned faces that litter the area around me.

Finally the time we've all been dreading arrives. I give Katniss a reassuring look as the escort digs through the bowl full of female names. She won't get picked, even with all the tessarae she's had to buy.. If anyone I know has a chance at getting reaped, its me. My name has to be in the male bowl at least a hundred times. But she'll be safe. Right? She has to sa-

"Primrose Everdeen."

No.

This can't be. Prim is just a little girl. As she makes her way up to the stage she looks like she could burst into tears at any moment. So does Katniss. The boy's name is called soon after, one of the Mellark's. Peeta. My eyes flick from the shellshocked form of Katniss to her frightened little sister, and I know in my heart that I can't let this happen. Prim is just a little girl, and if this is the only way I can save her, then I will. Before I can stop myself, the two words I never thought I would say pass out of my lips with a deep shout.

"I volunteer."

For a moment, it feels like time stand still. A flood of murmuring explodes out of the crowd like water gushing from a broken dam. But I don't care about that. All I can see is the fear stricken yet oddly grateful face of the girl who sets my heart on fire.