Having lounged in my bed yet wide awake all night, I stop trying to fall asleep and force myself upright. I watch from the cot on the floor that I share with my twin sister, Lena, as my older adoptive brother, Leon, walks in. He's just coming back from his graveyard shift as barn manager. When he sees me watching he nods a silent hello.

I hear his robotic voice call out to me. That monotone voice is our perennial reminder of his final battle before winning the games. I still clearly recall watching the fight—the District 4 boy slashed his throat right as he stabbed him through the heart. They were able to recreate his damaged voice box with artificial vocal cords. I used to wonder why he even bothered working, considering that he's Capitol rich from winning the 66th games. Eventually, he sat me down and explained that he couldn't stand the endless nightmares of his dead love and arena horrors. He needed the morning light to sleep and something to occupy his endless time. He needed to feel normal again.

"Elaine, you should probably wake your sister and check to see that the horses are alright and hooked to the wagon properly before you get dressed," says Leon. Crap! I had actually managed to forget what wretched day this was. Reaping day; the day that is dreaded by every District except for 1, 2, and 4. Those three Districts actually volunteer to head into what is almost certain death. They believe doing so brings honor to their District. I hate their guts. Everyone hates the Careers—except, well, the Careers themselves. And the Capitol. Almost all of the winners of the Games, or 'Victors', originate from one of three Districts. You rarely see a Victor from any other District. The reason for this is that Districts 1, 2, and 4 train- illegally I might add- practically their whole lives, giving them an unfair advantage over the other Districts.

In short we call them Career Tributes or 'Careers'. I have a theory that there are only three reasons why a career doesn't win. The first is that they aren't particular fond of one another, as was the case one year when every single Career managed to kill each other over a petty argument. The second is that they underestimate the tributes from other Districts. An example of this is the year that Johanna Mason of District 7 won by feigning weakness early on so others wouldn't look to her as a threat only to show she had the wicked ability to kill. The third reason also ties into second the reason in a way; they have an insatiable need for blood. The year that Beetee of District 3 won, he used that against them by leading them into a water-covered area and, by using a coil of metallic wire and the lightning storm happening at the time, electrocuted them all to death. Unfortunately, the Careers are on their "A" game most of the time, leaving everyone without a chance.

I gently shake Lena so that she will wake up. "Wake up Lena Beana," I call her by her nickname. It's what Dad used to say all of the time on the account of her being as skinny as a string bean. He- "I'm awake, I'm awake," Lena mumbles crankily. She sits up rubbing the last bits of sleep from her eyes. I relay everything Leon told us to do back to Lena. She nods her head and makes to get up. "I will go check on Abel and Marcy. I'm pretty sure you want to go see Marko." She draws the 'o' of his name out excessively long. At the mention of my longtime best friend I blush. "I knew it. Go ahead and find him." I just nod my head in assent instead of responding because of my fear of babbling. I tie up the strings of my boots; grab the tattered coat that belonged to my mother, and the dress I plan on wearing to the Reaping.

When I'm almost through the door, Lena speaks up one more time. "Give Marko my regards and wish him good luck on the Reaping. Don't forget to come." That goes without saying considering that attending the Reaping is mandatory. The only way you don't attend is if you're at death's door. Even then your family must leave you to face it alone. "I will and of course I won't forget, Lena," I say to appease her- she's such a worrywart sometimes- and shut the door behind me.

After leaving out the door, I head around the back of our one bedroom, one bath cottage to the looming barn house. I head straight towards my baby, Milo, and pet his mane to which he whinnies appreciatively. Due to his black and white spotted coat, I call him my little cow-horse. For four years I have had him. He was given to me by my Mom- I shut down the thought as quickly as it appears. Even though it has been nearly four years since my parents' death, I don't like to think about it. Instead as I check to make sure Milo's saddle and reins are secured into place, I think of Marko.

I have known him since the age of five. At that age and time, I couldn't stand the sight of him. He was always so quiet, observing every little detail. He also managed to push all of my buttons. Eventually after being assigned to a herd of cattle to graze and corral, we grew close. Over many misadventures (one time we were chased by a pack of coyotes because Marko attacked one of their young; we eventually had to stand back to back and kill them all, Marko with his bladed bow and me with my metallic whip and daggers) we began to see each other as friends. He has become an important part of my life. At some point I realized I have feelings for him more than a friend. 'And there is a strong chance of him getting reaped.' The thought makes me shudder. His name is entered over twenty times due to him putting in for tesserae (a year's worth of oil and grain, one for him, his mom, and little brother.) Unlike what our idiotic escort, Fuchsia, says, the odds are not in his favor. He has more of a chance being reaped than Lena and I do. Lena is entered in only four times. I'm entered six times because I took in tesserae for the both of us when we turned twelve. It was right before Leon had taken us in. He gave up his house in District 10's Victors Village to take us in because our fathers were best friends and they wouldn't allow anyone without shared blood to move into the village. I was so thankful that I gave it to him. He was furious and made me promise to never sign for more again, that he would provide for us. He even offered money to Marko, but he declined. Boys and their egos!

Before I am even aware of it, I have reached Marko's cottage, which is two and a half miles away. I hop down from Milo's saddle and tie his reins up to the porch. I then walk up to the front door. Marko pulls it open before I get a chance to knock, then pulls me into a bear hug. I return it, taking the opportunity to bury my face into his neck. All too soon he pulls back and lets me go. To draw attention away from the blush on my face, I say, "Lena told me to tell you hey and good luck with, you know," in a breathy voice. I instantly regret it. His hazel eyes darken and the smile on his face fades. I can tell that he is about to enter into one of his rants, so I lay down my dress, a tan spaghetti strap that hugs my curves and reaches down to my fingertips (mid-thigh), and sit on a stool by him.

"I hate the fucking Capitol. They think they can control us, bend us to their will", he begins.

"That's because they can, Marky," I call him my pet name for him. "They have us in their total control. We're under the constant watch of their peacekeepers. We can't interact with the other Districts. We're forced to ship off friends and family to be slaughtered like the livestock we care for."

"We could stop watching the Games. If no one watched there would be no point in having them. We could find ways to get into contact with the other Districts. We could spark a new rebellion. It's been done before."

His eyes gleam at the possibility of this actually coming to fruition. I can't believe he's actually suggesting this. If anyone heard this and reported on him… my thoughts and fears for him must show some what on my face because his expression softens. He grabs my hand pulling me up from the stool.

"There's always another choice," he says softly, looking intently into my eyes. "We could run away, away from District 10."

I stare blankly up at him. Is he really serious about this? He must think I am taking this news bad because he continues. "We could make it. With my bow and your whip and daggers, we would be able to hunt." He makes reference to the weapons we were assigned for when we grazed the cattle (to be clear, most District 10 grazers are nineteen and up; we were rare cases due to a mix up in paper work; they kept us on when they saw our skill at grazing.) They were issued in case we came across anything that would threaten the cattle: foxes, snakes, coyotes, and the rare muttations, or mutts, like the mongoose-mountain lion. Those very weapons that he spoke of were, as of now, locked in the weapon cache, guarded by peacekeepers.

"We don't have those right now. They're locked away." He steps away and opens the cabinet beside the front door. Moving some papers and his mother's knitting supplies; he shows the weapons I know like the back of my hand. "How did you-""When we l went back into the cache yesterday, I unlocked the window. I snuck in later that night. Nearly got caught b-." He stops when I gasp. "That's not the point. We have weapons. I know the peacekeepers' guarding the ridge's schedule- do not ask me how. We could make it, leave right now." He's looking at me with so much hope that it is hard to answer. But I do.

"We can't. Lena wouldn't last a day, we couldn't just abandon Leon. Have you told your mom about this? What about Jacob? We-"He cuts me off mid-sentence by putting his finger on my lip. "I'm sure I could convince her, Leon, and Lena to the idea. And Jake would be fine. You still haven't given me a definite answer." I just stare at him. "Come on, Elaine. We don't have to leave today. At least think about it." He looks at me expectantly. The idea is dangerous and stupid, but I decide to appease him. Hopefully he will leave the whole deal alone

"Okay"

He pulls me instantly to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Thank you," he mutters into my hair.

O0o ~ o0O

An hour and half long wagon ride afterwards, we arrived to the Market Place, the center of District 10 and where the Reapings take place. A stage is constructed in the center, right in front of the Justice Building, where our escort, Fuchsia, will stand to deliver her speech on how wonderful the Games are. She will then give our Mayor, Marshall Levine, free reign to drone on about the history of Panem, of how we lived in prosperity until the Districts rebelled. He will then talk about how the Capitol essentially shut us down, ending the Dark Days, and issued out the beginning of the Hunger Games. It is always the same each year, only ending with two poor souls being sent to their demise.

I hop down with Marko from his mother's wagon while she goes to find a place to leave it. Marko's miniature version, Jacob, who, thank God, is only eight, looks down at us and smiles.

"Well I guess I will see you when this is over," I say to Marko. "Yeah," he says absentmindedly. "A shame you have to dress up so nicely only to watch someone get shipped off to death." Besides the obvious dreadful ending, I blush at the somewhat comment while twirling a strand of my hair through my fingers. "You don't look so bad yourself." He's wearing a white dress up shirt and black neck tie with black dress pants and shoes. His cheeks tinge red a little and he runs a hand through his short cropped, black hair.

Suddenly, I am being whisked off. "Okay, you lovebirds. We have to get going. You'll have plenty of time to get in each others pants," says Lena, pulling me to the fifteen year old girl's section. She's wearing a white dress with red polka dots. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail with a few strands shaping her face. I look back to see Marko waving. I wave back then watch him until he disappears in the sixteen year old boy's section. Lena leads the way until she finds space near the back and on the edge of the group.

After a few minutes, Fuchsia steps on to the stage. This year green is apparently her new favorite color. She was dressed in every shade of it from her light green hair falling down her back in rivulets to the deep forest green of her jacket and pants. Her blouse and heels were almost a golden grass green. Her jewelry was a rainbow of itself, but the most startling of all were her eyes. They were no longer the shade for which she is named, but an almost electrifying green around the edges and molten near the pupils. The Capitol is so weird.

She gave her usual speech and, like expected, passed the microphone over to Mayor Levine. I ignored his speech and instead sought out a familiar face. I found Leon standing to the side with the few other Victors of District 10. They all had degrees of sorrow on their faces. They basically had to watch as one or, more likely, both tributes met gruesome ends.

I was jolted back into the moment when I heard Fuchsia speaking," and may the odds be ever in your favor." My eyes stayed trained on her as she went to the girl tribute ball. She spun it three times before stopping it with her long fingernails. I began to silently pray for Lena's safety and others around me took sudden intakes of breath or placed last minute bets as she grabbed the slip out. 'Please don't be Lena, Please don't be Lena.'

Fuchsia opened the slip in her hand and then read aloud, "Congratulations to the 74th Hunger Games District 10 female tribute." She pauses for dramatic effect.

"Elaine Sadwong!"

R/R