The sun is rising over District 4. It is reaping day. The water laps gently at my toes as I dig them into the wet sand. I stare at the horizon as the events of the last hunger games play out in my mind. I glance down at the shell infested sand and smile as I mutter to myself...

"May the odds be ever in my favour"

Quickly I cast a few furtive looks over my shoulder even though I know no one is around. It's a reaping day, they will all still be in their beds. May as well get a good sleep on reaping day, you never know where your next one will be.

I step gently into the icy surf. The effect is invigorating, as though every part of my body is invaded by the power of the current. I smile again. Here, in the ocean is the only place where I am safe from them. The Capitol.

I don't know how long I stand there, watching the sea flow this way and that, but by the time I move again, the sun is hot in the sky. Quickly I run from the beach, across the railway line and back to the little house I share with my family. I push my way through the door, realizing how late I must be, the reaping will start any minute now.

I search the house. My brother and father are gone. There is a note on the kitchen table, I read it aloud:

"Gone to the reaping. Please don't be late! May the odds be ever in your favour sweetheart."

I give a chuckle, may the odds be ever in my favour. I turn and take the stairs two at a time before hurling myself into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

My clothes are already laid out on my bed. My only fine dress, made for my mother's funeral. It is made of silky material that flows and glistens when I walk. The colours gradually change from blue to green, just like the ocean. It is breath-taking.

I slide into it and tie a matching green ribbon around my high ponytail then quickly wash my face. I take a quick look in the mirror, I am presentable enough.

Stepping off the threadbare rug and slip into my sandals and then, with one last look at my little room, I thunder down the stairs and out into the square.

People are already lined up in neat pens as I jog into the square, my sandals slapping against the beaten floor, filling the fearful silence. One side of the square is devoted to girls, the other to boys. I slip into my own pen with the other 12 year old girls towards the back and hurriedly scan the crowd for my father and brother. I locate them quickly enough. My father has scooped my brother up into his arms. He gives me a wink then turns to face the haphazardly erected stage in front of the Justice Building.

I take a moment to wonder why I still don't feel nervous. Here I stand like an animal waiting for slaughter and at the age of twelve, this is my first reaping. Even though my name is only entered into the draw once I should be terrified. I glance around at the others in my pen. I know a few faces but nobody speaks. They all look scared out of their wits. One girl to my left even appears to be shivering in anticipation.

Suddenly the huge screens above the stage crackle to life. The people take a nervous step back as District 4's escort, Auris Dolphin, takes to the stage.

Auris is stunningly beautiful. She would almost be likable, if she wasn't a puppet of the Capitol that is. As she walks across to the two glass balls at the front of the stage, her pale blue hair bounces on her back, the curls framing her delicate face. She wears a midnight blue dress, it shimmers in the light and appears to be made of fish scales. I hear a collective sigh from the men of the district as she reaches her destination.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." she cries with cruel enthusiasm, "Welcome to the 63rd annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour."

I stifle a laugh at this but my merriment is short lived as she takes a long step towards the ball holding the names of possible female tributes. One of those slips bears my name. I inhale deeply as Auris beams around at the crowd.

"Ladies first." she calls, digging deeply into the pile of paper slips and seizing one with her perfectly manicured nails. "Here we are, your female tribute is..Kaylar Abyss!"

Silence. That's all I hear. Silence. I feel the pitying glances of the other girls burn into my skin but I don't register it, not really. I am tribute, I am going the Hunger Games.

Peacekeepers materialize from every side and serve as a sort of honour guard, leading me to the stage, to my certain death. In spite of myself, I begin to weep silently as I catch sight of my father. He has sunk to the ground in despair, my brother just stares at him, totally perplexed. I know I have to be strong for them. I arrange my features so that I look almost bored, then take my place on stage beside Auris.

A collective groan escapes the citizens of 4 as it always does when one so young is chosen. They feel sorry for me and for my family but no one will volunteer to take my place, this I know already.

No one my age has ever won the games. No one under 14 has ever even survived to the top six. I am totally doomed. Despite my being from a career district, I have never taken an interest in the games, never attended a training class for survival or combat with my classmates. Ever since my mother died in the 3 years ago I have taken no interest, refused even to speak of the games. I regret that now. I could do with some survival skills at the moment and the ability to handle a weapon would help me greatly.

I am so caught in my thoughts that I don't notice the calling of the male tribute until he is right beside me, holding out his hand for me to shake. I meet his eyes. He must be at least 16. His face is beautiful and rugged but he is built like a brick wall and has at least 3 feet on me. His sea-foam eyes soften as he looks at me. Gently he takes my small hand in his and shakes it then turns back to the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your District 4 tributes. Kaylar Abyss and Kesella Shoal."

I suppose the next few hours will be the hardest, most painful of our lives. Possibly even harder than our time in the arena will be. This is the time allowed for our loved ones to come and say goodbye, probably for the last time. Feeling rather somber, I allow myself to be lead into the Justice Building on Kesella's sturdy arm.

Once through the sturdy oak doors, the peacekeepers seem to lose interest in us and disappear in various directions. Relieved to be left alone, I slowly slide my back down one of huge grey pillars and sit on the cold stone floor, head on my knees.

Finally I allow myself to process the day's events. So it was real, I was actually going to the Hunger Games. I would be a tribute. Fight other children to the death for the entertainment of the Capitol citizens. I can't help thinking how twisted it all is. I feel terribly lost as I know little about what goes on in the arena. I've only ever been allowed to watch one Hunger Games, last year's. Ever since my mother died as District 4's female tribute in the 59th games, my brother and I were forbidden to even mention them in the house. My mother was 18 when she died. Marrying and having children at a young age is common in District 4. As soon as you leave your parent's house you need a sturdy fisherman to provide for you. Family only goes so far here.

After a few minutes of wallowing in solitude, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder as Kesella slides to the ground beside me. I turn my head to one side to watch him as he draws small circles in the dust by our feet.

"How old are you?" he mutters, so suddenly that I jump at least a foot in the air, making him chuckle softly.

"12" I whisper back, taking in his beautiful features as they morph into a faultless mask of horror.

"12?" he gives a low whistle. "My sister is twelve, I'm 18."

"My brother is 10." I smile at the thought of his chubby face and soft blond ringlets.

"Ah..Still too young then?" he mutters, throwing a cautious glance in my direction.

I nod and our conversation dissolves in to silence as we both stare ahead, a dozen muddled thoughts filling our brains.

Suddenly he stands, crossing the room to the small window on the opposite wall. His well defined muscles, built up from years of work at the docks, are easily visible through his fine blue shirt. He stands for a minute, perfectly still as he assesses the situation then..

"CRASH!"

Suddenly he lashes out knocking over a small ornate lamp and sending shards glass and glittering sparks skittering across the floor.

"It isn't fair!" he yells, turning on me with such rage in his eyes that a scuttle back a few inches in terror. "You are 12. 12!" he stumbles about, blinded by his anger, possibly looking for something more substantial to smash.

As I stand to calm him, I can't help assessing him as an adversary even at this early stage. I will definitely have to watch out for that rage in the arena, and the sheer power brought about by those muscles? Well, let's just say I was in trouble.

He tenses as I take a few ginger steps towards him. We stand, inches apart and he stares down at the glittering glass on the floor, looking utterly ashamed.

"And you are 18" I whisper back, surprising even myself with the steadiness of my voice. "And we are both going to die, what's the difference?"

Then I walk away stiffly, choosing a door at random and slamming it behind me, to show my distaste at his childish performance.

I sit in a plush study on the left half of the justice building. My father and brother have just left. They stayed for every minute they could. My father weeping and my brother congratulating me on my win. He's clueless, bless him. I sit in my own sorrow, my knees drawn to my chest, a silk pillow pressed against my stomach, waiting to be taken away. No one else will visit me, I know this. But I will have to wait until Kesella is done, no doubt he has a millions friends to say goodbye to. So I wait in silence.

To say I was surprised when the door opens is an understatement. A small, portly man with a gleaming bald head crosses the room and claims the small armchair directly in front of where I am sitting. He tries to meet my eyes but I avoid his gaze. He is a stranger after all. What kind of man comes to visit a 12 year old tribute girl before she leaves to die? Is he here to laugh?

He is the one to break the silence, as though reading my thoughts and sensing my unease at his presence:

"I told him." he says bringing his face close to mine. "I told him to look after you, to do his best."

We lock eyes then. His are small and watery but they are a familiar shade of sea-foam green. Everyone in district four has green eyes of course, but these have a distinctive tinge of blue, like the ocean. I realise with a start that this man must be Kesella's father.

"Kesella?" I ask "What?" I'm confused now. Why is he here? What on earth is he talking about?

"My son." he answers. "Kesella is my son. I told him, he has to look after you in the arena. District 4 need to stick together and you are only 12. You need him, and he is fond of you. I told him. I can't let anything happen to you, for your father sake, what with.."

I nod. I know exactly what he is going to say. What with what happened to my mother. I've heard it a million times before. Sometimes I get fed up of everyone mothering me. I know the old man means well, but there is no looking after each other in the arena. Not really. If you make an alliance with someone you will eventually face the choice. Kill or be killed. It's always the same in the end.

He gives me a small smile as he stands to leave. He is almost at the door when he remembers something and addresses me once more.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" he exclaims. "Your district token. I know you don't have one yet right?"

I shake my head, suddenly curious.

"Here, take this." he steps back onto the deep rug and extends his arm to me, dropping something shiny into my lap. "It was her's, they brought it back after..You know." he looks concerned "Your father, he didn't want it. Threw it out to sea he did." the old man chuckles, then throws me a guilty glance. "Anyway, I went and got it, thought you might like to have it."

I nod again, wishing I could express my gratitude to this man who has been so kind, despite not even knowing me at all.

He walks away once more but just as he places his hand on the doorknob I find my voice..

"Wait!" I manage. "Thank you."

He gives another small smile and finally leaves the room.