Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and some of the characters in the story.
(I moved onto this story quite quickly, but I can see it taking a long time to write. Once again, I've created my own characters, but I'm still using some from the original story. Please review if you can give me any advice. Thanks)

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

One after another, the knives embedded themselves in the bull's-eye of the target. At the noise, the door into the large, spacious training hall opened and a dark-haired woman peered in suspiciously. "Raven! Why aren't you ready?! The Reaping's in less than two hours! No more knife throwing! Go and get dressed. Now."

Raven, her daughter, reluctantly retrieved her knives from the board and began putting them into a padded black box. "I wish I could take you with me." She whispered sadly to them. "But I'll be back soon." But not today. Today was the day. Excitement and dread mixed in the pit of her stomach. She left the training hall without looking back, allowing the door to swing shut behind her with a final bang.

Half an hour later she stepped out of her house and joined the steady flow of people heading to District 2's square. Only the youngest children looked scared. She didn't know why. In this District you got a choice. If you wanted to go, you could volunteer. If you didn't want to, then someone would probably volunteer in your place. Personally, she didn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to go. It was honourable. She'd been training for more than half her life; at the age of seventeen, she was ready to represent her District, and her family. There was nothing she wanted to do more, than become a Victor. And this year, would be her year.

Everything seemed like a blur. She lined up with the other girls after having her blood taken. She was almost at the front, with a near-perfect view of the big screen before them. She knew the procedure by heart; listening to the clip and the district's escort seemed unnecessary by now. The woman talking on the platform's name was Rhianne, who had deep blue hair that shimmered different colours in the sun. She always had a shiny lipstick smile drawn on her face and spoke in a voice that was always too happy. Matching navy shoes, puffy skirt and jacket accompanied her dazzling hair, and everything she wore seemed to glitter because of the intricate silver lines that covered the fabric. Most of the people waiting to be reaped were wearing their best clothes; but Raven doubted Rhianne was that protective of hers – she probably had hundreds more. She could have that, when she won, she thought.

"As usual, ladies go first!" Rhianne's voice rang out, bringing Raven back to the real world. "Isn't this exciting?"

Oh, if only she knew.

What were the odds of Raven's name being chosen? Not good enough, she thought.

That didn't matter. She was in control of her destiny. Not Rhianne, not the Capitol, not anyone but her. She held her breath, like every other adolescent in the country, as she watched the escort's hand cutting through the tiny slips of paper. In, out, in, out. Raven glanced to her left, where a younger girl had pushed through to be with her sister. The pair gripped hands tightly. Raven had no siblings, no one to protect but friends. The friends she had would be able to protect themselves. Except one, she reminded herself. One of her friends could never win, or even want to.

Nobody moved but Rhianne. No one breathed. A crying child near the back of the square hushed, affected by growing tension.

Suddenly, the woman's tanned arm retracted rapidly, one slip clutched between fingers with silver-painted fingernails. Slowly, the paper was unfolded.

"Gabrielle Hallen." A young, ginger-haired girl stepped forward unwillingly. She looked back, desperate for someone to snatch her back; saving her from the Games.

Raven smiled. "I volunteer as tribute."

She sauntered up to the platform, where Rhianne was beaming at her. District 2 began to clap. Gabrielle ran back to her mother, who hugged her and looked up at Raven gratefully, tears running down her face. Raven held back an expression of distaste for the two, knowing she could be seen by the whole of Panem. She hadn't done it for Gabrielle; she'd done it for herself. She looked up at her image on the screen and smiled inwardly. She was radiating confidence, the way she always had. Long, dark hair worthy of her own name fell in a straight, neat wave down her dress. Her father, who was incredibly wealthy, in relation to citizens from outside the Capitol, had bought it specially for the Reaping; it had a pale green top with buttons and sleeves like a shirt, and a deep green skirt that reached the knee, the same colour as her eyes. There was a thin leather belt around her waist which pinched in any extra fabric; Raven was very slim and muscular, due to her regular training. She was smaller than Rhianne, but she had already noticed the Capitol woman was wearing shoes with high heels, as thin as her knives' blades. The woman's well cared-for hand took her own and shook it firmly.

"Congratulations. What's your name, my dear?" the girl smiled straight at the camera.

"I'm Raven Karmandor. I'm honoured, thank you."

She stood aside for a minute, watching intently, as Rhianne got ready to select a male tribute. She watched the same hand she'd shaken rustle through the second glass ball, and searched through the sea of faces. She did not know who might volunteer. Not even a weak rumour had been told to her about the male tribute candidates. Who would it be?

Every face she looked at, from the youngest to eldest, was uncertain and tense. A small piece of her began to panic. Would District 2 have to take a weaker tribute? Her eyes darted between friends before her. They wouldn't have taken tesserae, would they? They hadn't accidentally threatened themselves?

Only if they'd thought there would be a volunteer, she thought darkly.

"Corin Essily."

She felt her heart lurch. No. It couldn't be. She struggled to keep her composure as a tall, familiar boy with dark auburn hair stepped from the crowd and was escorted by peacemakers up to the platform. She looked into his face. There was no emotion, just a mask. He was not proud, nor happy; simply resigned to his fate.

No one moved. There were no volunteers.

"Hello, Raven." He said bitterly, with a weak smile.

Rhianne, oblivious, clapped in delight. "You two know each other? Well, that's wonderful! You'll have such an experience!"

For the first time that day, or ever, Raven wanted to scream and fight and claw her way out. As she shook hands with the boy, all thoughts of victory were gone.

Now, she would have to kill her best friend. Corin.

If she was to win, he would have to die.