This is based on a oneshot I did for In the Background. I fell in love with Ayva, so I decided to expand on her story even more. If you want to see the basis for this, please go check that out. Thanks!

I am not Suzanne Collins, I do not own the Hunger Games, I do not own the idea for Ayva. All other characters and all names are my creation and are not canon.

I'm running, feet slamming the ground, faster than I've ever gone in my life. There are no trees- where are the trees?- just plain grass, as far as I can see. They're behind me, so close behind me, I can feel their breath on my neck. I wish there were trees… they're coming, they're right here, something's tugging on my arm, and I stumble forward, trying to pull away…

"Ayva!" My eyes snap open. "Ayva, get up!" My little sister, Asha, is the one shaking my arm. Her bright eyes light up when I smile weakly at her. "Ayva, guess what?" She doesn't wait for my answer. "Mama says that she'll take me out today!"

"That's great, Asha." I'm still bleary with exhaustion, but her six-year-old charm is irresistible. "You need to get all dressed and washed if you want to leave, then." She nods, eyes wide and innocent, before scampering out of the room. I collapse back against my bed, and remember my nightmare. It's the same one that haunts me every year, this close to the Reaping.

I'm eleven, still too young for the Games. Asha still has years. But my older brother, Alder, is 13. He has tessarae out. Almost every kid in District Seven does.

Mama tells me that I had a cousin once, Aunt Ela's son. I don't remember him. I was only a baby when he died in the Games, and Alder was a toddler. But ever since I heard of him, the Games haunt my nightmares. Aunt Ela was never the same after her son's death. Although, I guess nobody is.

"Ayva. Are you up?" Daddy's at the door now, his deep voice resonating through my little room. "Yes, Daddy." I drag myself out of bed, pulling on my work clothes. Alder, Daddy, and I spend our days out in the forest, while Asha is at school and Mama works in the town. School in Seven is limited to weekends once you turn ten. Weekdays are spent with an ax in hand.

Before I leave my room, I run a hand over the little wooden toy on my dresser. We all have one- it's a tradition that a child carves a toy out of the first tree they fell. Alder's a simple, a ball, but it's been polished to perfection. Mine is a crude bird, made with the clumsy strokes of a child, but I love it. The head is rubbed smooth from my fingers, every morning. It reminds me that I belong, I'm strong, I am from Seven.

"Ayva Provado!" I sigh. "Coming!"

The woods are alive, filled with sound. The crashing of axes into trees, shouts, laughter. The youngest workers, children like me, are running around, helping clear away branches, ushering in trucks, helping around. Most of us have passed basic training for cutting trees, but we won't be able to do that as a job until we turn 15. We still have training for a couple years before they give us axes out here.

My best friend, Ivy, is my work partner. We never let each other out of our sight. We're like twins; we know everything about each other, and we're practically inseparable. She's the only one who knows about my nightmares, my worries about Alder, my deepest secrets. Ivy is my lifeline in the days leading up to the Reaping.

"Ayva, you okay?" I glance up at her. I'd been zoning out, focused on my thoughts- easily the most dangerous thing to do in a forest full of falling trees. "I'm fine. Sorry." She nods, turning back to lead in the next Capitol truck. Peacekeepers drive them through the forest, pulling away trees. The District people will never touch them, but it'd our job to guide them through the miles of identical forest. It's tiring, but we know this place like the back of our hands. We practically grew up in the trees.

The truck comes to a halt, and a squad of older workers comes into view, dragging the huge tree in slings. Years ago, the lumberjacks had to drag the tree the entire way back to town, but the Capitol realized how much more efficient this was. The workers haul the tree into the platform attached to the truck. It's tiring work, and the Peacekeepers don't help. In a few years, Ivy and I will be doing this. But for now, we walk back, ready to guide in the next truck.

This is how we spend our days, marching through the forest. It's good work, they tell us. Other Districts have it so much worse. I do my best to believe that.