I am alive, see? It's just that somewhere amongst my GCSE preparation I lost the will to write anything, let alone continue the stories I'd already started. Until now, when I have finally regained inspiration.
I'm going to point this out now. This is a story based on the storyline of the Hunger Games Adventures. As in, the game. So yes, it will contain OC's. Obviously the main character is an OC, as they represent the playable character in the game. And some of the events in this fanfic will not strictly follow canon. It is, for the most part, an AU, though I will try to stick to the canon as much as possible.
And maybe some people will decide now that they don't want to read this. That's fine, I completely understand. But hopefully you'll give it a chance. And if you read it and don't like it, that's also fine, it's your opinion. But please, no flames. Constructive criticism and happy readers makes an author very happy. :)
BIG DISCLAIMER: These characters are not mine. Most of the plot is not mine. The characters and plot lines belong to their respective owners, be they Suzanne Collins or Funtactix Inc, or anybody else.
On with the story.
It's still dark when they come to take my mother's body, shatter the silence of our ramshackle house with their heavy footsteps and shouted instructions. I don't cry; I am numb as I dress and follow the men out into the street. The rest of the Seam is cloaked in darkness, and above me the sky is beginning to fade into a grey dawn, the stars slipping away. A man, a peacekeeper, tells me that my mother had Pneumonia and that her body could no longer hold up against the illness anymore, so it gave up. I nod, ask if I can go back inside and get a jacket. The peacekeeper allows this, provided that I am quick, as they have a few questions they need to ask me. I head straight to my room, collect my black waterproof jacket and am preparing to leave when it hits me that I am now an orphan. Tears slip from my eyes unbidden, but I can deal with my grief later. For now, I need to think. This was my mother's house, but now she is dead and it is not mine. I have no family that I know of, and since I am under 18, the peacekeepers will send me to the Community home.
This is not an option. I've seen the children who live there, and I have no desire to become one of them.
I don't have long to plan. The peacekeepers told me to be quick, and if I take much longer they will become suspicious. I dash the tears away from my eyes, run to the kitchen where after a minute of searching I uncover a knife. It's pitifully small, meant for cutting fruit, but for now it will have to do. I slip the knife into the waistband of my trousers; make sure the handle is covered by my shirt and jacket. I take a breath and say what I am sure will be a last goodbye to the house I have lived in my entire life. Then I walk out the front door, return to where the waiting peacekeepers stand in a small group. Upon seeing me, one of them splits away from the group and walks over to where I stand. In the grey light that is growing steadily brighter over District 12 I can make out the features of the man in front of me; pale skin, grey eyes and messy red hair. He has a childish face, and at this moment he looks kind enough, but he is still a peacekeeper and will force me into the community home if I let slip that I am alone in this world.
The man crouches down in front of me like I am a small child for all that I am almost an adult. He takes my hands in his own, asks my name. "Ash," I say, and am surprised at how crackly my voice sounds, "Ash Coombe."
He smiles, an expression that serves only to make him appear even younger. He looks about my age, and given his harmless appearance I expect that he is usually the one they send to deal with children. "Well, Miss Coombe, I'm very sorry about your mother's death. You do have someone, family perhaps that can look after you now, yes?" I nod and am rewarded with an even larger smile.
"Splendid," He says, "Whereabouts do they live? I'll take you there myself, make sure you get there safely. Wouldn't want you disappearing now, would we?"
My already sandpaper-like mouth suddenly feels even drier. This is it, I think. I need to lie convincingly enough now that they will not question me further, and I can walk away, find somewhere to hide. But nothing springs to mind. The obvious reply, that my relatives live so close that there is no need to take me to them will not work on this man who seems so concerned with my safety. I wrack my brain for a better lie, but to no avail.
I begin to panic. I cannot go to the community home, but I cannot see any solution to this situation that will not ultimately lead me there. I glance around the street, searching for an escape route should I have to run, but it is blocked on three sides by the fence and the derelict houses that line it. Besides, I am one small, skinny girl and they are three large, strong men, armed with batons and guns. It is unlikely that I could escape them if I did run.
I have almost given up completely when I see her. Darting between two houses, about 12 feet away is a girl that looks about my age. She has the Seam look about her, small boned and underfed like the rest of us, her dark hair in a long plait down her back. She stops when she sees the peacekeepers, and I watch her gaze flick to me curiously. I plead with my eyes, begging her to help me, though I am not entirely sure what it is I want her to do. Her body lunges slightly to one side, and I think she is going to run away, abandon me, but instead she begins to move toward us.
"Hey!" The girl shouts, and we all turn to look at her. She runs toward us, and after a moment's hesitation, wraps her arms around me. Shocked, I just stand there, and she pulls back, her hands on my shoulders and gives me a look that says play along, ok? She hugs me again, and this time I return the embrace. Finally she releases me and turns to the red-haired peacekeeper. "Darius? What's going on?"
Darius frowns at her slightly, clearly perplexed. "Well, Miss Everdeen, Miss Coombe's mother has just passed away. I intend to place her in the care of her next closest family members."
"That would be me. I'm her cousin." Says the girl, and Darius seems like he is about to protest, but she gives him a look that stops him.
He nods to her. "Well, that certainly saves me a trip. Excellent timing on your part, Miss Everdeen. I expect I shall see you later." And with one final, warning look, he gestures to the other peacekeepers and they walk away, leaving me with the girl.
The girl holds her hand out. "Weapon, if you don't mind. I could feel it just now, under your jacket and I don't care to end with a knife in my back." I consider refusing, but the peacekeepers aren't yet that far off, and a shout from this girl would bring them right back over. So I take the knife out and give it to her. She turns it over in her palm, inspecting the edges, a smirk on her face. "You were going to take on four peacekeepers with this?" I shrug. The girl narrows her eyes at me, frowns slightly, and I can't help but feel that she is examining me. Then she jerks her head toward the fence and begins to walk away. Unquestioning, I follow her beyond the houses to a gap in the fence. She ducks under it and raises her eyebrows at me when I don't immediately copy her. "Don't worry- it's not live. Works about as well as the rest of our electricity does." So I slip beneath the wire mesh and out of District 12 for the first time in my life. Across the meadow, the grass covered in dew that soaks my trousers, and into the woods. Just inside the edge of the trees, the girl reaches into a tree that appears to be hollow and pulls out a bow and a quiver of arrows. She turns as if to continue into the woods then looks at me, sighs, reaches into the tree to retrieve another bow and quiver. "I guess you're going to need these."
"Thank you," I say. She shrugs and keeps walking, her almost silent feet making my reasonably quiet tread sound like thunder in comparison. We walk for seems like miles before coming to a small clearing, surrounded completely by trees. A pile of tarpaulin, sticks and rope is in the centre of the clearing, and there's a small pool to one side, but other than that, it's completely empty.
The girl looks at me sideways "Welcome to your new home, Miss Coombe."
"Well," I say, "It could use a bed. But other than that, it feels homey already. And it's Ash."
She snorts. "Katniss. Let's make that bed."
We spend the next few hours working on my hideaway; making a sturdy shelter from the tarp and sticks, digging a fire pit, stockpiling fire wood. Then, Katniss teaches me about the plants growing around the clearing, pointing out the ones I must avoid if I'd prefer not to die horribly. Then, whilst I watch attentively, she sets a handful of snares around the clearing. These will catch food for me to eat, and provide goods that will give me the ability to trade for other necessary items. By the time we finish, its well after midday, judging by the sun. I light a fire, and Katniss digs up a few roots from plants near the treeline.
She's busy tucking roots into the embers of the fire to roast when the wild dog attacks. It already appears to be wounded, a gash on one leg drips blood into the grass, but all the same it's heading straight for my rescuer, and her weapons are well out of her reach. Adrenaline courses through my veins along with the fear, and I find the bow she gave me in my hands, an arrow set to the string, ready to fire. I aim for the dog's head, release my arrow. The dog jumps at the last minute, and my arrow pierces its throat rather than its skull, but the dog falls to the ground at any rate, dead.
Once it's clear the danger has passed, Katniss turns and looks at me. The emotions that flit across her face are confusing; at times it appears she is angry at me. But after a moment, a calm mask slips into place, and I cannot tell what she is thinking. She turns away from me, retrieves her bow, and walks over to the body of the wild dog. After a minute of cautious prodding, she seems satisfied that the creature is dead. Katniss stands, stares at me. "Your first kill?"
I nod an affirmative. My heart is still racing, and the adrenaline has gone, leaving my hands shaking as I grip my weapons. I'm immensely grateful that I didn't eat this morning, because my stomach is rolling and I'm pretty sure if I had eaten, the food would be on the grass by now.
"Well," she says, "I think it's time you learnt to dress a kill. You just caught our dinner. And… I owe you my life. "
I blink at that statement, and all of a sudden I'm crying, which is utterly ridiculous. Katniss looks a little alarmed, so I try to get a grip on myself, and manage well enough that I can follow the simple instructions she gives me as we skin and gut the dog. We divide the meat equally between us, and Katniss heads into the woods to scatter what's left. She tells me to keep the pelt, since I'll be sleeping in the open from now on. We roast part of the dog meat, and eat that along with the roots Katniss found. Then, after checking that my shelter will hold up overnight and promising to return tomorrow to help me check the snares, she goes, weaving through the trees as silently as she came. Night is falling now, and my dimly lit clearing is getting darker by the minute. It strikes me that I am now completely alone, that I shall have to defend myself from now on. I cover the meat we didn't cook with leftover tarp, weigh down the edges with rocks. I decide to let my fire burn out overnight, then tuck myself under the shelter we made. After making sure that my bow and arrows are within reach, I cover myself with a sheet of tarpaulin and the wild dog pelt, and finally allow the grief I feel for my mother's death to fill me up and pour out in a flood of silent tears. At some point in the night, curled in my shelter, my cheeks covered in tear tracks and my stomach more full than it has been in weeks, I sleep.
Katniss returns shortly after dawn, prods me awake with the toe of her boot. Groggily, I follow her as we check and reset the snares, and are rewarded with two rabbits and a rather fat squirrel. We keep one rabbit each, and Katniss tells me that we will trade the squirrel to the baker, who is fond of squirrel meat. I follow her back through the woods, wait as she hides our weapons in the hollow tree. Then we duck back under the fence and into twelve. She looks at me once we're inside the fence. "Do something with your hair. You look like you spent the night in the woods."
I run my fingers through the tangles in my shoulder length hair. "I did."
Katniss scowls. "Yes, but the whole district doesn't need to know that."
When she's finally satisfied that I don't look too suspicious, we continue on our way. The town sector of the district is quiet this early in the morning, its inhabitants all settling down to eat breakfasts that will actually fill them. Unlike the Seam, where even at this time of the day people are digging in rubbish cans to search for food, or going without completely.
Outside the bakery, the scent of bread makes my stomach growl. Katniss hands me the squirrel and tells me I'd better do this trade myself, if I want people to know I can trade in future. And then she strolls away, around the side of the building. I wait, and eventually a boy that I vaguely know to be the baker's youngest son comes out. I take a breath and approach him cautiously.
The boy looks at me, confused for a minute as to why I am there, then smiles as I raise the squirrel.
"Oh great, game. My father will be happy. But where's Kat-ahem." The boy blushes lightly, rubs his jaw. "I suppose you'll want something as a trade. How about you take a loaf from one of the baskets over there? Is that fair?" I nod an affirmative, hand over the squirrel, thank him for the trade.
The baskets he means are filled with bread that's so fresh it steams in the early morning air. I take a loaf, relishing in its warmth against my cold skin, and return to Katniss.
When I hand her the loaf, her eyebrows raise "It's still warm. Who'd you trade with?"
"The baker's son," I say, "the youngest one. Is he a friend of yours? He seemed to be expecting you"
She looks at me sharply. "No. We aren't friends."
I drop the subject.
We divide the bread, and each eat half as breakfast. Then we return to my hideaway in the woods. Katniss makes a rough target out of some sticks and tarp and fastens it to a tree. We take it in turns to fire arrows at this. In no time at all it becomes very clear that the shot that killed the dog yesterday was a fluke. Whilst I am not atrociously bad at shooting, for every arrow of mine that hits the target, four of Katniss' pierce it dead centre. Once Katniss leaves, I check the snares, but they're empty, so I gather some of the greens Katniss pointed out yesterday and eat those instead. I practice shooting until every muscle in my arms aches and the sun is slipping beneath the trees.