Isilee Katniss Everdeen is my name. Katniss, for the aunt I never knew who had died before I was born.

My life has been torn apart by the Hunger Games once before. When I was twelve, my name was called. My uncle, well perhaps uncle isn't the right word. My honorary father? Anyway our close family friend, Gale had stayed up whispering late that night with Prim, whispers of conspiracy, of it being no accident that my name was called because the capital was still angry at Katniss. My aunt, her name was rarely spoken in District twelve but it certainly wasn't for lack of reverence but rather a certain degree of self preservation. Katniss Everdeen was a taboo subject.

Katniss and her failed rebellion.

Katniss and Peeta.

Katniss.

I wish she was still around. She sounds amazing, Gale gets all wistful when he talks about her. He says I look like her, except my eyes. They, like my mother's and Grandmother's, are blue and my skin is a bit paler. Dark hair and blue eyes set me apart from the other seam kids. That and the whispers that followed me.

I owe Katniss my life. It was because of her that someone volunteered for me. The girl said that she was dying anyway and that if she had to die she would like to do it in place of someone else and how I didn't have an older sister to volunteer for me like Katniss had. That she wanted to do something noteworthy.

Do you know how heartbreaking it is to watch someone die slowly and painfully knowing full well that it is entirely your fault? Don't answer that, I hope you haven't.

After that I truly hated the Capital, not just because someone told me to, it became personal.

I changed after that. In my early childhood I spent the majority of my free time with my mother with medicines and herbs in her apothecary and maybe one or so day per week in the woods with Gale. I don't think he enjoys hunting all that much anymore but we need the money. When Katniss died and the money was taken away we went straight back to poverty. Anyway, after that I couldn't bear the occasional deaths and just the responsibility of holding someone else's life in your hands and I turned to hunting instead. Gale taught me to hunt, I was especially good with bows.

I remember my mother once joked that I "had the gene", but nobody laughed. Instead she looked close to tears and turned away. I think it pains both of them how much I remind them of my aunt. To be entirely honest, I think my resemblance to her was the only reason that Gale thought I should learn how to hunt and why he spent so much time teaching me how to use a bow, more time than on making snares or any other subjects.

I thought I was safe. I thought that there was no way that I would be involved in the Hunger Games.

I was wrong.

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A/N: Alright, this is just a prolouge-ish thing that I wrote on a whim and I'm fairly certain I will continue it but future chapters will mosst likely be much longer. I felt like this chapter was necessary but not overly interesting and rather different than what the actual story will be like since it is just a brief history/thoughts and the main story won't be so spacey.

I really just wrote this on a whim and I kind of surprised that it ended up in first person which I am normally very definatly against. What do you think, did it work or not really? Anyway I've given you fair warning as of now, I may switch to third person omniscent in the near future of the story.