It was dark. I was running through the dense, thick forest with it hot on my heels. There was a stitch in my side and I couldn't breathe, but kept running anyway. Because not breathing is better than dying at the hands of a mutt.

Because I had to get back to Katniss, to mother, to Gale and Lady and Buttercup…what would happen to Buttercup if I died? I didn't know where I was going, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I didn't die.

I took a wild sprint and flew onto the Cornucopia. I lay down on the cool metal of the structure as I wheezed in a vain attempt to catch my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut as my breathing and rapid heartbeat slowed. I reluctantly opened my eyes and propped myself up on one elbow – still breathing hard – before surveying the area.

The mutts still leaped from below, attempting to get a nab at me. I scooted away from the edge precariously before backing into something behind me. Oh my god. No no no no no. I swallowed hard and looked up. I barely got a glimpse of the shadows on his face before taking a blow to the head and being pushed over the edge.

I awoke with a jolt. Sweat poured down my face mixing in with my salty trail of tears. I looked over at my sleeping mother and sister. I snuck out of the bed I shared with my sister, Katniss, and silently crept into my mother's bed. I lay there uneasy for a while unable to sleep. My eyes fixed on a point in our broken ceiling. A spider scuttled across the ceiling. Thoughts scurried through my mind as the dim light of dawn streaked through the grimy, makeshift window.

What if I got reaped? What if I had to go into the Games –basically a death sentence here in District 12. In one and two, it was an honor. They'd been training all their lives. They had the biggest pool of victors in all of Panem. They were always favorites among the Capitol.

As the light streaming through the window got brighter and bigger, I wondered what would happen if Katniss got reaped. What would provide for the family? I mean, I'm sure Gale would help hunt for us, but he can only hunt for so long until either a) he gets caught, or b) he has to go work in the mines. And we won't benefit from either, because we can only live on goat milk and cheese for so long.

I heaved a heavy sigh as my sister opened her eyes and slid out of bed. She glanced around the room - probably wondering where I was – and found me nestled into our mother's side. She tried as quietly as possible to slip on her leather jacket and hunting boots before heading out. As she quietly padded into the kitchen, I hope she discovers the small amount of goat cheese that was my present for her today.

As I heard Katniss close the door with a gentle thud I exited the bedroom leaving my still sleeping, partially broken mother on the bed. I slipped into the kitchen and began heating some water on the stove for my bath. Once that was done, I slid into the lukewarm water and shivered. My hair swirled around me, creating intricate patterns in the water surrounding me.

After I'd dried off, I'd put on Katniss' old reaping dress from a few years ago. It was this beautiful blue and white number that looked very worn and beaten up. It felt very soft, and the fact that it had been worn many times before I had was comforting to me. I felt protected, even though the word 'protection' didn't necessarily have a meaning when it came to District 12.

I started heating a bath for Katniss and had it ready just as she walked through the door. She glanced at me, gave me a small reassuring smile and walked into the 'bath room.'

When she came out, she looked beautiful. Her dark brown hair flowed down past her shoulders as it air-dried. She had scrubbed what coal dust she could from her dusty nails and body. She looked like… no, I won't say it. It hurts too much.

I gave her a small, sad smile and said, "You look beautiful."

She returned my smile and said, "And nothing like myself." She seems lost in thought for a minute, before saying, "Tuck in your tail, little duck." I giggle and retort with "Quack." Katniss allows herself a light laugh. "Quack yourself." Although she allowed herself a chuckle, I can see the blunt fear in her eyes. I have a feeling, though, that the fear isn't for her safety - it's for mine.

We make the short walk to the square. I get nervous, and grope around for Katniss's hand next to mine. I finally feel he soft, worn skin that is my sister's hand. It's in this moment that I feel so much safer then I really am.

As we file in and get our fingers pricked, it's almost completely silent. Everyone over here is so sullen – you feel like you're fighting to the death in our Hunger Games. But not just anyone's death – your death. I shivered, calling to memory the past Hunger Games. The arenas are usually the worst - besides the tributes themselves. I remember the one year where this one guy was a cannibal. After he killed people, the Capitol had to shoot a tranquilizing dart at this boy so they could retrieve the body before he could eat their hearts.

The arenas can be worse, though. There have been barren wastelands, tundras, water, sweltering heat...above them all, I was praying for a forest. I stopped my train of thought. Prim shut up, I scolded myself. They're not going to pick you. Your name's only in there once. That's what Katniss had said all week anyway. I guess it burned its way into my brain somehow.

I suck in a breath as they prick my finger. I hate needles. Needless to say, there aren't many around here. But when my mother or I need to sedate a patient somehow with something, I always need to turn away or leave. Which is ironic, considering I'm a healer.

The three chairs on stage outside the justice building are empty as of yet. I assume they're for the escort, the mentor, and the mayor. As I go stand in the section of twelve year olds, my fingers grasp for Katniss' hands warmth and sense of security. As I attempt to stop myself from hyperventilating right then and there, two of the three chairs' owners step out on the stage of the justice building. District 12's escort, Effie Trinket, is dressed in a spring green suit, a pink wig, and white lips. How scary, I think. The mayor is next to her, conversing about something that I wouldn't know about. The mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, is nowhere to be seen.

As the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium and begins to give the history of our nation. Most everyone else has heard it a hundred times, including me. But somehow, this time I'm completely entranced. I stand there like a statue as he tells about the ancient country of North America that had been destroyed by famine and natural disasters and war. After it all ended, the result was Panem, a nation of a Captiol surrounded by thirteen outlying districts. Not soon after came the Dark Days, the rebellion of all thirteen districts against the Capitol. All were defeated, and District 13 was obliterated. Then came the Treaty of Treason, which stated new laws to guarantee our protection and such. To me, it seemed more like a promise that there would be no more rebellions. Not, of course, that the Capitol would lose. In that treaty, as 'a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol' came the Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games were a fight to the death among twenty four tributes - two from each district. They were trained for three days before getting thrown into an arena - these tributes had no idea what they were getting thrown into, mind you - to fight to the death. And according to the Capitol, the more brutal and bloody these deaths were, the better.

I am suddenly snapped out of my reverie by a drunken Haymitch staggering out onto the stage. He collapses into the vacant third chair. The crowd laughs in their appreciation for the small amount of humor they are graced with before maybe their child goes off to die. Haymitch looks around, confused, before standing and trying to give Effie Trinket a hug. By now, the crowd is roaring with laughter. Some are doubled over laughing so hard. Most of the children are laughing, and even I allow myself to giggle.

The mayor must know that our district is currently being laughed at by all of Panem, and he runs his hand through his hair before attempting to regain the crowd's attention to the reaping by announcing Effie Trinket.

Happy and carefree as ever, Effie takes her usual spot at the podium before giving her signature 'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!' She starts with her traditional "Ladies First," and walks over to the big glass ball with the thousands of girls names, twenty of them being Katniss's. My stomach churns uneasily, and I make a silent vow not to lose whatever breakfast I had this morning.

The crowd takes in a collective gasp, and the square becomes so silent, you can hear the paper crinkling under Effie's hands.

She clears her throat, opens the slip of paper, and reads the name.

I can clearly see her lips from here. And the name she's just read belongs to me.