A/N: I've never read Hunger Games fics but this story idea popped in my head and I had to write it. So I have no idea if this is an original story or if this is an original title or not. I also tried a new writing style: Katniss's POV style.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games.

Forevergreen

I bolt upright with a scream, panting heavily. Another nightmare. The same nightmare that has bothered me for years. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins. I can't bear to lay back and feel so helpless, so I roll out of bed and pull on my trousers, light brown canvas pants perfect for hunting. I slide delicately into my hunting boots. My toes wriggle into the well-loved and well-worn leather that fits my feet perfectly. I squirm into a shirt and tuck my braid under a cap.

I gaze across the room. Prim is curled up in my mother's bed. She must have had bad dreams too and climbed in with Mother. Her normally cherubic face is twisted into a grimace of fear. It's no surprise she feels this way; today is the day of the reaping. I smile sadly and grab my hunting bag. I'm almost out the door when I hear the light pattering of feet running down the hallway. Prim hugs me briefly. "Don't be out too long, Katniss. I have the most beautiful dress for you!" She hands me a piece of fresh goat cheese which I slip into my pouch. I turn to go. "Wait!" Prim's voice, now excited, stops my in my tracks. "I want you to wear this!" She pins my brass mockingjay pin to my breast. I got it at the Hob, the black market, from Greasy Sae for a squirrel. Prim had been eyeing it, so I bought it secretly to give it to her on her birthday.

"Thanks," I bend down to look her in the eyes. Prim is twelve. It's her first reaping. I hook two fingers under her chin and kiss her tenderly on her forehead. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again. "Tuck your tail in, little duck." I smooth the blouse back down.

"Quack. Quack," she giggles cheerfully.

I return the smile halfheartedly. and slip out the door with a wave and a wink. Usually at this hour, our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is bustling with coal miners heading out for the morning shift. But today, the streets are empty. The curtains are closed. Nobody is out. The reaping isn't until two o'clock; one might as well sleep in… If one even can.

Our house is near the edge of the Seam, so I only have to slink past a few gates to get the Meadow. When I picture a meadow, I think of a lush, open pasture blossoming with life. This scruffy field overgrown with weeds is the farthest thing from that image, yet it is the closest I have to a reality. Like the myth of Tantalus, it is something that could be yet is not. Food held so mouthwateringly close and yet unreachable. Enclosing District 12 is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire coils. If I can get past the Meadow, I'll be in the forest, free of District 12. Sometimes reality deviates from the ancient Greek tales. In this case, it's the simple fact that the tree has become too lazy to torment poor Tantalus. The fence is supposed to be electrified 24-7 to keep predators out and to keep us in. But since we only get a few hours of electricity in the evenings, it's almost certainly safe to touch. Nonetheless, I'm always careful to listen for the hum of a live fence. Now, like always, it's dead silent. Looking around discretely, I drop down to the ground by a hedge of bushes. I flatten out and slide under a loose wire that hasn't been tightened for years. It's no trouble. The wire sags lower than the stomach of a woman who's just given birth.

When I'm in the trees, I retrieve my bow and a sheath of arrows from a hollow log. There may be a shortage of meat inside District 12, but it's plentiful out here in the forest if one knows how to find it, that is. My father knew how and taught me before he died in a mine explosion. There wasn't even a piece left of him to bury. It's been years and years, but his death, among others, plagues my dreams.

It's good for business, not having any meat inside the fence. Supply and demand or something like that. The Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to those who hunt because they long for fresh meat as much as anybody–In fact, they're some of our best customers. Few hunt, though, because not many are brave enough to venture into the dangerous woods with only a knife. My bow is a beauty. A rarity crafted lovingly by my father. Besides my bow, another factor that gives me an edge over my competition is my willingness to wander deep into the woods. Those few who hunt in the forest always make sure to stay in sight of the Meadow. They always are close enough to flee back to protection. District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety.

As I ascend the hill, I can feel every one of my muscles relaxing, and my steps quicken. The sight of him waiting there for me brings a smile to my face. Gale says I never smile in the woods. That's not true, is it?

"Morning, Catnip," Gale chirps. It's a long story how I got that nickname. "Look what I shot!" Gale holds up an arrow with a loaf of bread speared on it. It's real bakery bread, not homemade grain ration bread. Fine bread like this costs so much it's almost not worth it.

I seize the loaf and feel it. The crust crackles in my hands. The fragrant smell makes me salivate. "Mm, still warm," I say. "How much was it?"

Gale laughs, an infectious, hearty boom that makes me smile even wider. "Just a squirrel. I think Old Man Mellark was feeling a little sentimental this morning."

A wry smile spreads across my face. "Don't we all?" After a moment I add, "Today at least."

He smirks. "Even when we're out from under their shadow, the Capitol manages to rain on our parade. If that rain were milk, nobody would ever starve."

"Oh!" I remember something. "Speaking of milk, Prim gave us a cheese." I reach in my pouch to pull it out.

His face lights up. "We'll have a real feast worthy of our Dear Leader, President Snow!" He falls into a Capitol accent, mimicking Effie Trinket, the insanely upbeat lady who comes once a year to read off the names at the reaping. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds–"

"–be ever in your favor!" I finish with a giggle. We joke about it because the only other option is to be scared silly, and we would never give the Capitol that pleasure. Besides, the Capitol accent sounds so peculiar that almost anything sounds hilarious in it.

Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread easily. I hand him the cheese and he spreads it on just as deftly. We settle down in a nook in the rocks after gathering a few handfuls of blackberries. This is our safe place where we can feel free. This is where the bonds of slavery don't apply. The only thing ruining this is the fact that today is the reaping. In just a few hours, we'll be standing in the square, hoping and praying that no one we love will have to die.

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly, playing with a blade of grass.

I look at him. "What?"

"Leave the district. Run off and live off the land. You and I, we could make it."

I don't know how to respond. The idea is so ridiculous… yet, so appealing. I say nothing, and stare off into space. After a brief but awkward silence, I finally say, "I had a dream last night…"

"Me too. What was yours?" Gale seizes on my words like a drowning man holds to a piece of wood.

"Tell me yours first."

Gale rolls his eyes. "I dreamt that the Peacekeepers turned around and destroyed their handlers. It's the first good dream I've ever had on a reaping day. What was yours?"

I waver. "I don't think I want to tell you anymore. It's stupid."

Gale smiles encouragingly at me. "Dreams are stupid. They're nothing more than little thoughts flying through our heads."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I dreamed… That you were drawn for the reaping." The words, which start slowly, tumble out of my mouth like rocks in a cement mixer.

"Well… That's not that stupid." Gale snorts. "I have forty-two entries. The odds aren't in my favor."

"Maybe we should go." I begin to feel increasingly agitated. "I have a bad feeling about this. I don't want to lose a good hunting partner." I try to smile playfully. By Gale's expression, it doesn't work.

He starts to argue then thinks better of it and grimaces. "So you agree with me after all!"

"Yeah…" I say quietly.

"You know we can't bring anybody?" He gives me a questioning look. "We can't even go back to get any supplies. And once we've left, there's no going back."

"I know that!" A tinge of irritation colors my words and I wince. I continue a little more softly, "We should leave. Your siblings can't be entered in the reaping yet, and Prim only has one ticket. We can set up a place and come back in a year or two to get them."

"If you say so…" Gale obviously doesn't believe we can come back, and neither do I. He tries to stay upbeat. "But if we can't…"

"I know." I interrupt. "I can only hope that we're doing the right thing. Even so, my emotions might be clouding my judgement…"

He nods, crestfallen.

"…but I want to go anyway." I finish. At this, Gale looks up at me with wide, surprised eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." I nod determinedly.

He stands abruptly. "We need to go now then. No going back to pick something up. Every second is going to have to count."

I nod and sling my bow across my back. "The timing couldn't be better. All the Peacekeepers will be at the square, and even if they do notice us missing, they'll assume we're out hunting and plan on punishing us when we get back."

"And if we're especially lucky, they'll be feeling sadistic and greedy." Gale is gathering his equipment. "And they'll wait and wait, anticipating our return. They'll know that the longer we're out, the more we'll have to bribe them."

I smirk and flick back my hair. "They'll wait for days and when they finally realize that we've given them the slip…"

"…and they won't be able to call the Capitol for reinforcements because they know they'll get in trouble for not going after us immediately! So they'll have to find us on their own!"

I feel giddy laughter building up inside me. "Their equipment is terrible. If we leave now, we could make it!"

He suddenly sobers. "If we do this right, we won't end up like… them."

I know who he's talking about. We had been hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, in wait for game. Then we saw a girl and a boy running through the brush as if the hounds of hell were barking at their heels. Judging by their red-rimmed eyes and tattered rags, they must have been running for days. Out of nowhere, a hovercraft appeared. A net dropped down on the girl and lifted her up as faster than I could blink. A harpoon nailed the boy to a tree. They hauled him up too, but I doubt he lived. I have no idea what happened to them then, but I hope for their sakes they were killed. There are some things worse than death, especially for a captured runaway.

"You know," he looks at me squarely in the face, "We couldn't take anyone with us. If you're serious about this, we need to go now.

"I know."

"But where would we go?"

I think for a moment. The Capitol's to the west. Eleven's below, and Three's above. The ocean isn't too far east. I want to get as far away from civilization as I can get. Realistically, I want to get as far away from the Capitol as possible, but I'll even settle for getting as far from District 12 as I can. The districts are all spread out, but the land is occasionally patrolled. There's only one place that the Capitol would never go. No one lives there. It's vast, and woody. The perfect place to hide. It's a place where the Capitol would never expect us to go. The toxic bombs that destroyed District 13 deter any would-be runaways from settling down there.

"District 13. We should go there," I finally decide.

Gale's face shows comical bewilderment. "District 13?" He looks at me incredulously. "Are you out of your mind? It's still smoldering from the bombs! The land is unlivable!"

I smirk. "What was District 13's industry?"

My smirk grows wider when understanding dawns on his face. "Katniss, you're a genius!" His grin is as brilliant as the sun. "District 13 was graphite! There's bound to be a lot of caves to camp out in!"

"Yeah, and the bombs only affected the village itself. The surrounding forest should be huntable," I say.

"So Northeast?" He examines the sky, looking at the sun.

"Yeah."

He begins walking down the hill. "Shall we?" He extends an arm, mimicking the snobby Capitol-folks' etiquette. I loop my arm in his and we saunter jauntily down the steep slope.

At the bottom, we break in a sprint to the nearest river. Its currents are strong but not dangerously so. We'll swim upriver for a few miles to throw the dogs–and the Peacekeepers–off. As always, we try to do the unexpected.

It's hard to swim. Especially upriver. Though my body is lean and strong from years of hunting, I'm terribly sore when I drag myself out of the river hours later. "This should be far enough," Gale says, wringing out his shirt. I agree. If I ever have to swim again, it will be too soon.

We rest for a short time. Only a few minutes. Then, we roll in dung to disguise our scent and head into the forest. I pray that this is enough. I don't want to disappear into the belly of a hovercraft to be executed in the Capitol. I spot something. Gale crashes up behind me and stops abruptly when I hush him and put a finger to my lips. Slowly, silently, I pull my bow off my back and nock an arrow. I release, and the shaft flies true. A wild turkey falls with an arrow through its eye. Our first kill. We fall upon our prey and quickly pluck and dress it. I place the majority of the meat in my bag but keep a portion for myself and Gale to eat on the run.

Morning turns to evening, then to afternoon, and then to night. Still, we run. We run and run for three days straight and stop to sleep only when we're near the brink of exhaustion. When we finally wake up, it's dusk. We've slept nearly half a day. Immediately, we resume our course. We split up at points, making elaborate fox trails to throw off our trackers. We roll in some more scat and do everything we can to get them off our back. It's no use.

On the sixth day, we hear the roar of landspeeders. It's faint but audible. They're still several miles away. Of all situations, barring a clean escape of course, this is the best one. It means it is indeed only the District 12 peacekeepers that are tracking us. Without Capitol support, they will be short on hardware and backup. Most importantly, no hovercraft will be appearing to capture us. We break into an all-out sprint, pushing ourselves harder than we've ever run. The engines grow louder. They're almost on us. I look over my shoulder. Almost two dozen Peacekeepers in full armor are bearing down on us. Their guns are still strapped to their hips; it's kind of difficult to fly at a hundred miles per hour through dense foliage while shooting a gun. That's one advantage for us. They can't hurt us while they chase us. I thank my lucky stars that the woods are so dense. Otherwise, instead of twenty-four pilots busy avoiding tree trunks, there would be one large troop transport with twenty-three guns pointed at us. Twisting mid run, I lift my bow, aim at a flanking speeder, and release. The speeder jerks suddenly to the side, its driver having fallen off, and veers into a neighbor. Two down, twenty-two to go.

"Stop!" The leading Peacekeeper bellows, leaning further into his speeder to gain speed. "Stop and we can negociate leniency!"

I don't respond, too short for breath. But I wish I could turn and ask him what kind of leniency would they really give us besides a bullet to the back of the head? Gale shoots down another, and I do the same. We're down to twenty pursuers. But now they're finally on us. Two stop in front of us, cutting off our escape. We're surrounded. They dismount, carrying their assault rifles. It's no contest. Everyone here knows who will win.

I snarl and stab at one with an arrow. He doesn't even react, just crumpling bonelessly to the ground. Another retaliates, knocking me upside the head with the butt of his rifles. They stand in a line behind us, forcing our hands high in the air. I almost consider fighting back. It would be better to die free than to live in slavery. But my survival instincts kick in and I do nothing.

They've handcuffed Gale and are about to do the same to me when gunfire erupts from the treeline. Three Peacekeepers fall, and the rest abandon me to fire back blindly into the forest. I pick up my bow which is still on the ground where they forced me to drop it. The fire has stopped on both sides but then starts up again. From the amount of shooting on both sides, I can guess that the Peacekeepers still outnumber our rescuers–or our ambushers–whoever they may be. The gunfire starts up again, and taking advantage of the distraction, I nock an arrow and pull back the string as far as I can. Grunting from the exertion, I breathe out as I watch the arrow sail through the heads of two of rearmost guards like a hot knife through butter. The Peacekeepers don't even notice their comrades fall. I grin and congratulate myself on the silent double kill. The guerilla attackers have cut the Peacekeepers' numbers in half. I quickly continue shooting them from behind until the combined efforts of our rescuers and myself have wiped out their force.

A small squad of men and women step out from the trees. They wear uniform gray clothing and carry assorted firearms ranging from a simple handgun to a deadly machine gun. I grin ever so slightly and walk towards them to thank them.

"Halt!" An imposing black man levels his rifle at me. "Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!" I bristle at his tone but understand the need for caution. My bow hits the grass.

"Aw seriously?" Gale grumbles loudly, "It's just our luck that we get to be arrested twice!" It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes. In the face of danger, Gale is as incorrigible as ever. "I mean really!" Gale continues, gesticulating with his bound hands at the fallen armor-clad men, "Didn't you see Katniss take out like ten Peacekeepers? Come on!"

"Quiet!" The man barks. "You lead the Capitol to our front porch! We don't take to that too kindly."

I protest, "Sir, the Capitol doesn't even know anyone's here."

He looks at me skeptically. "Explain, then."

"We're from District 12. We left on reaping day because we knew the Peacekeepers would be occupied. We knew they wouldn't go after us for at least a few days because they know we hunt for them. We also knew that when they finally realized that we'd fled, they would be too scared to call for help because the Capitol would find out that they basically let us go."

The man nods. "I can accept that… But you're still being taken in custody. I trust you'll come peacefully?"

I dip my head in agreement. It's the only answer I can give.

After thoroughly taking care of the corpses and dropping a radio beacon at the site, the group leads us through the forest for hours. Gale tries to strike up a conversation. At first, they give us only stony silence, but they soon warm up, and not long afterwards, I'm recounting the time I was chased by a bear in only my skivvies to uproarious laughter. Then, Gale asks the group a question I've been dying to know. "Who are you?"

The black man, who, I have found out, is named Boggs, only shakes his head. "You'll find out when we get there."

Gale scowls at the man. I can see how he would bother him. The way Boggs's conducts himself practically screams of a military background. Granted, the others seem to be military as well, but not on the level of Boggs. We at District 12 may have it better than some, but nobody has good memories of soldiers.

When we finally get to their outpost, it's dark. But I can still make out the silhouettes and the deep shadows cast by the ruined buildings. Boggs, who was walking before us, murmuring quietly into a hand radio, makes an abrupt hand signal. We make a quick turn and walk into a half-collapsed building. We step gingerly over loose rubble and descend a long spiral staircase. I look at Boggs incredulously. "We're in District 13? Wasn't it bombed by radiation bombs?"

I could swear Boggs gave me a smile. As quick as it appears, it's gone. "We're not in District 13. We are District 13. Home is where the heart is, not where the building is, after all."

"How did you survive? Surely the Capitol must know you exist!"

Now he chuckles. "Oh, they know we exist. And they also know we have nuclear weapons trained on them. M.A.D. Mutual Assured Destruction. They can't afford to attack us, so they leave us be."

I gape. "How did you get nuclear weapons?"

"District 13 was a graphite mine. But there's more to it than that. Officially, we mine graphite, but unofficially, most of it goes to the nuclear reactors, not the Capitol. We used to be the Capitol's military and nuclear weapons industry. When Panem rebelled, the Capitol was about to bomb all the Districts. We stopped them by threatening them with our nuclear weapons. Then we wrote up a non-aggression pact. We moved underground and allowed the Capitol to bomb our district to the ground as an 'example' to the others. They allow us to be independent and safe from their attacks so long as we pretend to be destroyed and refrain from attacking them." Boggs gives me a satisfied smile.

I grow angry. It's not fair. While the other districts live under the tyranny of the Capitol, this district is free. Yet it doesn't help us or destroy the Capitol. I voice my opinion and am chagrined when he laughs in my face.

"Mutual Assured Destruction. I'm sure you've heard of it." He looks at me pointedly.

I nod. "It means if you launch your bombs at them, they'll launch their bombs at you, and both will be wiped out."

He motions with his hand, "Go on."

"And even if you survived by relocating before you fire, you can't take out all of the Capitol's supporters. You can't bomb all the other districts just to kill them." Realization dawns on me. "And not only would it be pointlessly killing us, you would be eradicated as well."

Boggs's wide smile shows white teeth. "Bingo! Not as stupid as I thought, then!"

I deflate and sigh. "But are you ever planning on taking on the Capitol?"

He responds, "I can't say anything about that topic." But he gives me a wink before reverting to his stony face.

It's been three weeks and we're still stuck in our cells. Officially, we're not under arrest, but they just want to keep tabs on us before they accept us into District 13. They question us every once in awhile but we haven't been mistreated. In fact, they seem genuinely interested in what's been going on. Often times, they're outraged at how we've been abused and starved. Other times, they're indifferent, almost as if they've lived through it before.

Boggs regularly visits us. He tells us that the President's busy and that she should see us soon. Ha. I'm starting to doubt him. We're free to roam the compound but there's not much to do. I can train but can't hunt. I can eat but only with Gale. I'm starting to go crazy looking at blank, gray walls and blank, gray people. It takes me a week to notice it, but I soon realize the cause for the lack of laughter. There is nobody under the age of fifteen. There's no children whatsoever.

I ask Boggs when he next comes and he tells me that a pox swept through the compound, sterilizing everybody. No more children can be born. That's why they're so desperate for newcomers. If they don't get anyone soon, this will be the last generation that lives here. I laugh at the irony. For people who are desperate for a new addition to the gene pool, they sure don't show it.

I'm about to pull out all my hair when they finally come to get me. I fix a glare at Boggs. "About time!" He just snorts and begins walking briskly to the commons, the main air shaft to which almost every hallway leads to at one point. We take an elevator up to a level I've never been on before. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"To see the President." Boggs presses a button and a door slides open. I walk in, not knowing what's going to happen.

President Coin, a middle-aged woman with long, graying hair, is the very picture of a wise but iron-fisted leader. She motions for me to sit. Boggs stands outside, guarding the doorway. "Boggs tells me of your survival abilities." Her voice is quiet but commanding. Even from the opposite of this long, spartan table, her voice carries clearly.

"Thank you," I blush, "but I'm no fighter. The only time I've fought was earlier this month."

This seems to raise her opinion of me even farther. "So," she looks me up and down appraisingly, "A natural, huh?"

I shrug helplessly. "I like to hunt."

She smiles. "I've decided to take you in."

"Oh, thank you!' I feel a weight that I never even knew I had lift off my chest.

"You and your partner may stay. I only ask that you join our armed forces. Participating in our military is mandatory for all citizens." She waves her hands magnanimously.

At this, I grow uneasy. "With all due respect, I'm not sure I'm up for fighting. All I want to do is live free and hunt. I want to get my sister back."

"And what might your name be?" She asks, but her expression of warmth has faded.

"Katniss Everdeen."

She looks up at me, startled. "From District 12, am I correct?"

I nod once.

"You look nothing like your sister."

"What?" I feel confused. "You know her?"

She chuckles. "I think the proper question would be who doesn't know her?" She waves a hand and the screen behind her lights up. On it, the she stands in a chariot, hand in hand with Peeta the breadboy. She looks radiant and yet withdrawn. A beautiful gown that flickers with synthetic fire drapes her small frame.

Now I know what I must do. "President, I'm sorry, but I must decline your offer. I have to go and get her."

She only looks at me with amusement. "And how would you do that? You would have to run for thousands of miles to get to the Capito-"

I interrupt her, "I saw you bringing in those landspeeders. Without us, you wouldn't have any. Surely you could afford to give me one."

She continues as if I had never spoken. "...Then, you would have to get her out of the arena. The Games have already started, you know. She'll be dead before you even get halfway there."

I stand up abruptly. "With all due respect, I'm going to get my sister. With your help or without it" I begin to walk for the door but am stopped mid-stride by Coin's shout.

"Wait!" She holds up a hand from the table and I turn.

"What?" I try to suppress the sudden tinge of annoyance that I feel.

"Your sister's already dead."

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. My sister? Dead? "H-how did she die?" I stammer.

"How do you think?" She asks sardonically.

"I know how people die. Who killed her?"

I can see the look on her face and realize I've only given her more fuel for her rhetoric. She looks me straight in the eye and answers, "The Capitol." At my sour face, she goes on, "Oh, they may not have killed her directly, but what they do brought along her death."

My mind reels. I still can't believe it. How? How can Prim be dead? A tear trails down my face and sits, quivering on my chin. It tickles me and only makes me more upset. "But who killed her really?" I know I shouldn't hate them. It's not their fault they have to kill to survive, but I can't hide what I really feel. Internally, I am raging at the injustice of losing my sister. I want to go out and find whoever did this. I want to hear their pleas for death as I draw it out as long as I can. I want to see the light leave their eyes.

She shrugs apologetically. "It doesn't matter. The Games are over. They didn't make it. Don't blame them for the crimes of the Capitol."

"Who was the victor?" If only I hadn't been such a damn fool!

"Your friend, Peeta Mellark."

If only I had stayed! If only I had let Gale's idea be only that–a foolish idea. A joke. I could have seen my sister again. I could have taken her place.

She adds, "If it's any consolation, he took care of her. She was as much his little sister as she was yours. When she was murdered, he avenged her and sang to make her passing easier. All of Panem loves him for that."

The unfairness of it all makes me tremble. There are so many things that the Capitol has stolen from me. They've taken my food, my family, my freedom, and my future. The need to make the Capitol pay for what they've done is my only motivation. I refuse to endure any more of the Capitol's abuses; I've lived a lifetime of it. I finger my mockingjay pin, the last thing Prim gave me and clench it in a fist. My decision is made, and I open my mouth to speak. "President Coin, I'll fight for you."

Coin's eyes glow in satisfaction at my words, but she regards me with empathy etched into the lines of her aging face. "Katniss, I've also lost to the Capitol. We all have. That's why we are going to destroy them at all costs."

Her words send a chill up my spine. I get the feeling that she really would destroy them no matter what she had to give up.