"congatulations to the younges ever victor, Katniss Everdeen!" the twelve year old girl glared at the capitolites, hating them. Strapped to her leg was a knife, her only reassurance after the games. She never felt safe without it, she felt vulnerable. She brushed her hand against it, picturing slitting gheir throats. They deserved it, she wondered if they would laugh, as they did to others like herself as they died, or would they hate her for killing one of their own. She didn't really care, she just wanted to go home.
People whispered about her, she didn't care. They murmered about how small she was, how dangerous, how cruel she was. She didn't care. They didn't know her, they never would.
Reapings came and went. A new life to loose each year. A new face to see flash in the sky. Then she came. A small girl with dark curly hair and a birdlike stance. The moment she saw her she new. She cared. The girl was like her, when she was 12. Determined to get home. Katniss wanted her to go home. Her own tributes were pathetic. A stocky blonde boy who looked at her with adoration and a smiley blonde girl, Delly, that was her name. Neither stood a chance, they were to soft. Unprepared for the harshness of the arena. She would try to help. But she doubted they would survive the first week.
They did. They showed surprising promise, she didn't want to, but she was disapointed. She didn't want anyone to be a threat to the little girl. Rue. The two twelves worked hard to survive, but they were caught. She couldn't say she was happy they died, but at least Rue was alive. She began working with the mentor for 11. Gathering sponsor money for the small girl. She drew attention to herself, people weren't supposed to help othe tributes. She was visited by President Snow, threatened. But she didn't care. She didn't have much to do with her famiy. They feared her. She had cut off most ties when she returned. Even with the tall boy who was starting to become a friend. Gale, but that was all in the past. She tried incredably hard, and to her delight, the 12 year old girl won the games. She wasn't the same, Katniss didn't care, at least she was alive.
Despite achieving her aim, Katniss had started something. The way she worked to gather sponsores for a tribute that wasn't her own had started murmerings. In a way, Rue's victory was rigged. People began to wonder, if one mentally unstable, 16 year old girl could ensure that a 12 year old defeated trained 18 year old tributes, what else could she do? Could she lead them to vicrory against the capitol? They made her the unwilling figurhead for a rbellion that would destroy the capitolites.
By the age of 18, the rebellion was over, the capitol was smouldering rubble. Katniss moved away. No one knew exactly where, Rue went with her. The only evidence of their existence was a four note tune, carried by mockingjays spread across forests, and, if you were close enough, you might here the soft songs of stolen innocence and grief sung by two tortured souls.