Authors Notes:
This is my second fanfic. If you'd like to read the prologue to this, it's in my other stories called "Just Another Piece". I'd highly recommend it, as it sets the whole backstory to this one.
I've read a lot of fanfics where it is literally just the Hunger Games typed out with name changes in place of Katniss and a few scenes written in. I didn't want to do that, so this is Catching Fire re-written, as if it never existed in the first place. The arena will be different, as will the Quell and the characters.
I apologize if you're a Katniss-Peeta lover, but I killed her off. No regrets. Of course if you read the prologue, you'd know that already.
This is the story of Lya and the Labyrinth.
Chapter One.
Hot Broth in Hot Hands
The sun is setting on the mountains in the distance. Sitting in a tree branch, I watch the shadow of evening slowly creep over the meadow and settle on The Seam. The atmosphere is perfectly appropriate in preparation for the day that will come soon, the day of the reaping.
My name is Lya Redwan and tomorrow I will be seventeen years of age. I have paler skin than most who live in the Seam, more likely because I spend most of my time in the merchant area of District 12. My eyes are a dark brown, but you can never really tell anyway, because they just look jet-black. I have long brown hair that forms curls at the end. In the right sunlight it almost shines golden brown, like honey.
I only ever saw honey once, I was much smaller then. My father brought some back from a trip through the Hob, it was a rare find. We spread it on some bread we'd brought from Mr. Mellark's bakery and ate it, mother, father and me; nevertheless it's now just a bittersweet memory.
Sometimes I miss my father, but most of the time I don't. Im still angry with him for leaving me. Mother died a while ago now, she tripped while walking back home from the square and rubble lying on the side of the road gashed her leg. It wasn't the wound that killed her; it was the infection from living in these neglected conditions. A woman called Marie Everdeen was the doctor in the Seam, but she couldn't do anything. She plastered all sorts of herbs and green pastes on her, but nothing worked. Nothing made a difference.
My father changed after that, everyone said he was losing it, going mad. He began rambling about going to District 13, rambling about The Capitol and conspiracy. The next thing I knew, I was alone. He'd gone off on whim, and left me.
I kicked a loose branch out of the tree and watched it crash to the ground.
I was born in the Seam, and if the odds are indeed in my favor and I never get reaped, I will probably die in the Seam. It's something that isn't feared around here. To die in the Seam is considered a good thing. It's far better than the other alternative, even if I now live in the merchant area.
I scaled down the tree from branch to bough until my feet touched the hard dirt. Sweeping my hair from my eyes, I hoisted my pack over my shoulder and headed towards home. I use the term "home" loosely. Since father left, I stay with a little old woman called Ria. Her hands are shaky and her eyesight is failing, but her heart is in the right place. She is the seamstress of the merchant area, and has a small shop opposite Mr. Mellark's bakery.
I also use the term "shop" loosely. Its really just four walls, a floor and a leaky roof in winter, but it fetches what money it can, even though each year I need to take tesserae. Above the shop is a small room where Ria and I sleep. The roof leaks even more there, which escapes through the floor onto unsuspecting customers when the seasons turn cold.
Outback from the shop is our kitchen and bathroom in one. There is a metal tub in the back corner behind a wooden dressing partition where I bathe in the early mornings. Ria, with her age, now needs my help to step down into the tub.
As I push open the door to the shop, a small bell chimes. Ria looks up from threading a worn out blanket and beams her crooked smile at me. Her gray hair wisps down her back and her plump fingers work a needle at a surprising rate.
With a nod and a small smile at Ria, I slide past her and push open the heavy wooden door at the back of the shop and step down into the kitchen. The door gently closes behind me, the numerous locks and chains welded into the back of it clattering and rattling.
I set down my pack and tie the old apron around my waist. I never grew very tall or big so the hem drags around my knees. I open the wooden basket that we keep under the table and pull out a potato, some carrots and a few leafy greens.
Although Ria can thread a needle in the dark, her hands shake too much to prepare meals, so the duty falls to me. I don't mind, not really, it's better than living out in the street. Its better than being a starving, frail body, sitting at the Head Peacekeepers step, hoping he would feed me in return for a night of company.
I suppress a shiver at the thought and turn to get the metal bucket for water to make broth.
Lifting the heavy pail in both hands, I wrap my arms around it and waddle out the front of the shop to a water tap outside. I place the bucket underneath the tap and force the handle open, the water flowing into the bottom of the bucket with a splash. It was almost gloomy outside now, the shadow of the night slowly falling upon the merchant area of District 12.
I fill the bucket to near brim and shut the tap off. My first attempt to lift the heavy bucket was unsuccessful, and all I succeeded in doing was sloshing water down the front of my apron. My second attempt was much better, I managed to lift the bucket slightly off the ground, but unfortunately I lost my footing on the hard stones and reeled backwards. A strong pair of arms wrapped around me from behind and one arm pulled the bucket easily into the air while the other drew warm around my waist pulling me close to a hard body. I looked up in surprise, a pair of dazzling blue eyes locking with my own.
I didn't even realize I was being lifted slightly off the ground until the young man gently leant down until my feet came in contact with the earth. My knees felt like jelly and my heart was beating fast inside my chest.
"Are you okay?" he spoke kindly, running his now free hand through his messy blonde hair.
"Yeah, uhm, the bucket…. its heavy" came my breathless reply.
With a smile, the young man wandered into Ria's shop carrying my bucket, the bell chiming melodiously as I trailed after him. My eyes wandered over the back of his body, he had strong arms and a broad physique. He disappeared out the back into the kitchen and I heard the sound of water sloshing and I guessed he was pouring it into the pot I'd set up over the fire.
Ria was humming to herself as she darned with a mischievous grin on her lips. The young man appeared back through the door and with a courteous nod and a smile at Ria and me, he slipped out the front of the shop and into the street.
I reluctantly turned away from the shop window and brushing my hair nervously behind my ear, I went back into the kitchen. Sitting there on the bench next to my chopped vegetables was a small loaf of bread, the heat still rising gently from the crust. Surprised, I took it in my hands, breathing in its warm doughy scent. Placing it back down, I stirred the water in the pot, which was now near boiling. Reaching into the cupboard I pulled out a petite parcel of brown paper. Inside was a small hunk of squirrel meat I had brought from Gale Hawthorne at the Hob. Cutting a small ration off and portioning it, I slid the meat into the pot of hot water. I added a cube of spices and compressed grains that would give the broth some flavor at the least.
As I stirred the pot, I thought of the young man, and those blue eyes. I'd seen him sometimes in the classrooms at school, always through a window. And the whole of Panem had watched him last year. He was a year older than me, and far more important to have noticed someone as trivial as me. In such a brief moment, when I'd seen those eyes up close, I'd noticed how much sadness they held.
I was shaken from my daydreaming when a spot of hot liquid flew from the pot and onto a naked part of my arm. Cursing and rubbing my new burn, I stirred the pot that was now boiling over and pushed a metal stick into the fire to disperse the flames. Lifting the chopped vegetables, I laid them in the pot and mixed.
Leaving the broth to simmer, I pulled two wooden mugs out of the cupboard, and then a third as an after thought. I took my knife from my belt, and after cleaning it on my slightly wet apron; I sliced off a generous chunk of the baker boy's bread.
It was now almost dark inside the back room, so I took a thin stick from the fire and lit the candles that were located around the chamber.
Stirring the broth once more, I slid the pot off the fire and carefully ladled the precious soup into the three mugs. Balancing the chunk of bread on one of the mugs, I took a second in my hand and walked out into the shop front. I put the two mugs and bread down in front of Ria. Darting back into the kitchen, I took one of the candles and bringing it into the front room, placed it by Ria to give her light to work and eat by.
"Thank you Lya" she said in a fruity voice.
"No problem Ria" I smiled warmly as I picked up the second mug and made my way toward the front door of the shop.
"Lya, where are you going?" she called playfully.
"To say thank you," I said over my shoulder as I pushed out the front of the shop.
I walked the few paces it took to cross the road, and directly in front of me was the Mellark's bakery. It was slightly fancier than most stores in the merchant area, perhaps because it had been there for as long as most could remember. It belonged to Mr. Mellark's father before him, and the sturdy shop reminded most of District 12 of times when Panem wasn't in such poverty.
Taking a deep breath I pulled the door open and stepped inside. It was warm and cozy in the bakery, the sweet smell of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air. I walked toward the counter and a figure popped up from stacking flour bags. He was an older man, with wrinkles from smiling so much and kindhearted eyes.
"Lya!" he exclaimed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Hi Mr. Mellark" I greeted happily.
I was always happy to see the gentle old man; he always had a kind word to say. Looking down, he eyed the mug I grasped in my hands and with a wink at me, he ducked out into the back room of the bakery.
I stepped forward towards the glass cabinet that contained all the beautifully decorated cakes and pastries. The delicately lined cookies with intricate weavings looked simply delicious and I felt my stomach rumble, as I hadn't eaten yet today. I felt a presence behind me and I slowly turned to find the same blue eyes watching me.
I felt a blush crawl up my cheeks and I held out the mug of hot broth towards him. Warm hands clasped around mine and I felt the heat of them sear right through my bones. Unwillingly, I relinquished both the mug and his hands back to him.
"This is to say thank you, for before" I found my lips saying without me willing them too.
"That's really nice Lya, thanks," the deep voice said.
"Oh! And for the bread" I added softly, with a sly smile. The young man raised an eyebrow at me, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. A voiced called him from outback and he glanced towards it. Turning back to me he gave me a slight bow, and holding the mug of broth, he gave one last glance into my eyes, which felt like it could have lasted hours, and we both turned our separate ways.
As I reached the front door, I peeked behind me and I was very much aware of two striking blue eyes following me out the door and across the road.