The damp grass was soundless underneath my pitch-black boots. My eyes scanned the surrounding, monitoring and checking for any signs of life throughout the sleeping winter forest but I spot none, damn. I carefully resheath my homemade arrow and relax my hunting position, as I ease myself into a normal walking stance.

Suddenly I hear a twig snap, at once I have an arrow nocked in my bow and trained silently at the young doe. One clean shot through the eye, I remember. Trying to mimic what my mother had shown me yesterday. I loved the moments when my mom would get over her fear and pick up a bow and arrow again and show me her flawless technique. For some reason she could never hunt around this time of year. I never asked why but whenever she did show me her ways I adored the treasured moments. My little brothers, Cassian and Camellin, both named after two types of winter plants Cassia and Camellia, had to have some meat throughout the year. Though we could easily order some, seeing as we had more than enough money to spare, we never really did.

I let my arrow fly and narrowly miss the eye, and the goosefleching behind it. My flint tip impales the doe through its neck, causing it to flail and fall to the snow covered ground. Cursing silently I take the extra kitchen knife I had thieved from my father's bakery, out of my belt side. I try to take a knife with me every time I hunt just in case I don't kill the animal immediately, I hate watching them suffer it makes me want to hurl every time it happens.

Sadly it happens more then I want to admit, I can never seem to replicate my mom's hunting or dad's baking. I am always one step or movement late or behind. Nonetheless I am the oldest and I need to learn because one day whether no one admits it or not, my parents will die and I will have to go out and keep my family alive.

Red hot blood warms my hands as I carefully take the arrow out of the doe's neck and end it's suffering with a smooth stab to the eye, I wait with it's blood drenching my clothing as I feel its heartbeat stutter and stop. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. I stay like that for a while, the doe laying on my legs, my feet going numb under its weight and the cold snow's temperature. I sit watching the sunset admiring the sunsets reds and oranges.

My father always told me I would be a wondrous painter if I ever picked up a brush. But I had much more in life to do then paint sunsets, though I remember times when I was five and we would go out in the forest. We spend the day picking berries and dad would bake fresh bread and then we would sit, mom and I, watching the sunset while dad painted us. I loved those moments, then I was naive and never thought they would ever end. But then again I had been young and small, dirty blonde curls reaching my elbows and always wearing little orange dresses. Once my brothers were born though, everything changed. No more sunsets or painting, I of course would never blame my brothers they were the light of my life I would sacrifice my own life before letting them get hurt.

Walking through the orange tainted forest I hawl the doe over my shoulder and my bow and arrows on the other. I recognize the remains of a fence as I jump over it's jagged edges and into town. I wait until I see the fork in the path that separates my family's estate from the rest of town. Or what is left of it. My parents have never told me what happened, they normally pretend the burned houses and bodies just don't exist. I still recall when I had first stumbled upon the other part of town. I had been playing tag with my parents, my father was it and mother and I had been running both of us laughing. Noticing the fork in the road I ran to it and dragged my mom with me, so we could escape my father. That was, until I had noticed how the ground had turned black and things that looked eerily like people littered the ground. My mother's eyes had widened and she spun to try to stop my dad from coming over here. He had been to absorbed in the game he just thought she was telling him to stop so she wouldn't become 'it'. I watched my mother run up to him and try to block the charred remains from view, too late though. I saw with shocked horror how my father who was sweet and gentle, the man who wouldn't hurt a bug, go still.

I had gone hunting with my mother at that time and I noticed the body language of a predator about to attack. I recall shrieking at her to go, but too late he lashed out. But my mom deflected him and landed in a fighting position, I turned and ran back home never looking back once.

As I walk home I see the faded chipped paint on the "Victor Village" sign not reading "Viclo Vill g". Walking by the homes I see ours by the upstairs window lights, my brother playing probably. The other houses are unoccupied except for one, across from ours.

That belonged to a drunk guy who used to visit sometimes when I was little, I would always go and hide upstairs or in the forest because when I first met him he had said something to the effect of, "what a cute girl, good thing she won't be going to kill other children now." My mom had started yelling at him right then and I had disappeared.

Snowflakes fall on my nose as I enter my house and set the doe on the table, it's blood coating the counter. I peel my blood soaked shirt and pants, setting them over a chair and pulling on mom's sweater from the couch. I listen for a moment and try to guess how much time I have before my family intrudes and starts asking questions.

Taking a sharp knife from the sink I began to cut the skin of its body and set it in a spare garbage bag, my mother has a rule about not letting my brothers know I hunt. They have known for quite sometime and love to ask me about it, or when I can teach them. Nonetheless I will maintain the illusion for my mom. Setting my quiver on one of the higher shelves I take a wet cloth and clean off my face. Wiping down the counter I stick the dirty dishes in the sink and replace them with my doe's naked body.

"Ryyyecinnn," I hear Cassian call, followed by a thunder of footsteps down the stairs. My little brothers greet me with hugs, both of their faces covered in black paint and both covered in furs from my bedroom. Snatching both the furs off their bodies I roll my eyes and hug them back, careful to avoid touching the black body and face paint.

"We are warriors!" screams Camellin, pounding his chest. I let out a laugh and them put my face in a mask of fear.

"Oh no, scary forest men and coming to attack me," running over I jump over the couch.

They surround me hands grab my legs and I am met with smiles of satisfaction. I change into a sitting position and begin to tickle my favorite boys and they squirm and scream, swatting my hands away to escape.

God, they are adorable.

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Let me know what you think and if I should keep going. If you have any questions, critizism, or requests I invite you to send me a review or chat with me. I don't know if I'll keep going but if I do there will be romance and Ryecin dealing with the New Capitol.

Town of Stories :)