District 2

The tributes had just been reaped, as it was called, and were now all heading towards the Capitol from their Districts. The trains were slow, and would take about five days for all of the tributes to arrive to the Capitol from their homes.

District 2's Elijah Crowley was sitting on one side of the car. He was looking around, up at the ceiling, then to the girl who sat across from him, who was laying on her back on the couch.

The Capitolite who had been selected to watch over the tributes, or, as she's called, the escort, was a woman named Esperanza. She was still a bit frazzled and new to her job, so she sat with the refreshments and didn't talk to her tributes.

Elijah hugged a pillow, curled up on the couch. The train was making his stomach churn unpleasantly, not to mention the fact that he was already starting to miss his home. He was only 15 years old, and ripped away from everything familiar. He had said goodbye to his father, his older sister Valentina, her husband Trevor, and their son Nick. He had said goodbye to Priscilla, a 11-year-old orphan he knew, and Talon, another orphan that was 11.

He hadn't gotten to see his beloved cat, Estella, at all that day. He already missed that little calico with gray eyes and matted fur. He felt bad for all the times he and his best friend Nate had tormented the poor creature.

Nate.

The last person he'd said goodbye to. His heart ached to see his best friend Nate McIalwain. The boys hadn't even been separated for two hours yet, but Elijah felt desperate to see his face again. After all, the two boys had been attached at the hip ever since they met in elementary school.

They had been present for the attack on the orphanage that day. He and Nate had done everything that two 15-year-old boys could do to try and stop all the death that was happening around them. Elijah had already lost a mother to the Dark Days, after all. They couldn't stop them from taking so many innocent young ones. And for what?

Elijah picked at a scab on his arm quietly. He didn't know what to expect.

Part of him was still in disbelief that the Capitol would do anything like this. Part of him was holding onto the hope that maybe this would be stopped before it started. Maybe he'd just get to go back home. Maybe the Capitol was just scaring the Districts. Maybe it was all some kind of sick joke.

The other part of him was preparing for the days to come.

The Capitol hadn't exactly explained what would happen with this all. Maybe they would just be thrown out of the train. Elijah looked at Esperanza, wondering if she was waiting for the okay to push him and the girl from his District off of the train, where 22 other teens would be waiting for them. Would he ever actually reach the Capitol? He had no idea.

If he did, what would they do then? Would they get a chance to learn anything about survival? Elijah didn't know the first thing about it, even after experiencing a full-scale rebellion. He didn't want to learn weapons, but knew he might have to.

He bit his lip as Nate's face came back to his mind. He memorized every detail of it before he left. Nate's pale skin, dirty blond hair, thin lips, button nose. Blue eyes. Nate's blue eyes were dull. Almost a dark gray. Nothing like his friend's blue eyes, which were a deep and vibrant shade. Even so, Elijah couldn't stop thinking about them. Possibly the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. There was no reason he should think they were pretty, he just… Did.

Elijah reached up and tried to smooth down his light brown hair, which never stayed down when he wanted it to. Nate always laughed when he tried unsuccessfully to smooth it down. Elijah's heart ached for the noise. He was so incredibly far away from home by now. He had to wonder what his father was doing. What his sister was doing, what she was telling her son, who was only 3 years old? How was he about to understand what was happening to Uncle Lijah? Elijah wished he knew.

Esperanza offered the tributes food, but Elijah wasn't hungry. The train was making him want to barf, as was the fact that he could be dead in a matter of days. Maybe hours. Maybe minutes. Maybe seconds.

Elijah's heart seemed to stop in his chest for a second at that, his eyes scanning the train for any sign of a threat. When he found none, he let out a small sigh of relief.

Stop being so jumpy, Elijah scolded himself. That would help with nothing.

Instead, he had to stay focused on the prize. He looked out the window, sighing quietly.

.

Paulina Manson was not nearly as well-loved as her District partner.

The 18-year-old from District 2 was watching her District partner count off the names on his fingers of people that depended on him getting home. She could fit all of hers on one hand.

Paulina brushed some of the thick black hair behind her ear.

All she really had was a couple of friends and her 16-year-old brother Brandt. Brandt was a boy that very rarely expressed emotion, and, though he shared her thick black hair, tan skin, and green eyes, he was absolutely nothing like her. Brandt never pretended. He was an awkward, shy, unemotional, dense moron, and he acted like an awkward, shy, unemotional, dense moron.

Unlike her brother, Paulina couldn't figure out who the hell she was. She'd done so much pretending she wasn't sure who she was anymore. She played up her looks, taking advantage of some of the District's rich and Peacekeepers. She was a loyalist, as was her family. She didn't know why she was here. She had no idea. But she knew one thing: if her parents had known it would come to this, they would've fought with all the money, all the power they had against the Capitol. Her parents were trying everything, bribing Peacekeepers, offering any sum of money to get their daughter back. Their power and influence were smashed. Paulina was sent away.

Now she sat on the train and thought about everything she was leaving. She knew that the only thing she had was her beauty; she wasn't particularly strong, she wasn't particularly smart. She could easily be manipulated. She had to build her walls. Eat or be eaten. She had to do the manipulating before it was returned to her.

She glanced at the 15-year-old boy, who was obviously in lala land and had no chance of being transfixed by her looks. All of the 15-year-old boys she knew would have quickly agreed to anything that came out of her pretty mouth, but this one was different. He was too loyal to his friends and family. He too was trying to close himself off. She respected that, and thought it was smart of him.

Paulina stared at her nails. She hadn't done anything in the rebellion. She had kept going as normal. She hadn't done any kind of work. She wasn't fit. She was spoiled. She would just kiss Peacekeepers until they did as she said.

Now, though, she couldn't just kiss her way out of it. She had to do something noticeable and get someone to protect her. She knew she couldn't fight for herself. This is what she had to do. She was ready to do whatever it took to keep on living. No matter what.

"I just got the schedule of events for the week!" squealed Esperanza, walking over to the tributes. Elijah was still holding his stomach, probably because of the motion of the train that wasn't particularly comfortable, and Esperanza looked only slightly woozy from the motion. Paulina was lucky she didn't get carsick. She was riding backwards and felt nothing. She watched as Esperanza went on.

"First, we'll go to the Capitol. Luckily for you, you guys are close to the Capitol, and you'll be able to spend your first night in the apartments set up for the tributes to live in. Some tributes will have to spend their first night on the trains. You're really very lucky."

"We're lucky," Elijah said, his tone bitter. Paulina snorted a little bit. She'd pegged him to be sensitive and flighty. Maybe he would've been that way if he were a couple years younger, but he seemed to be pretty mature. Paulina bet the war had to do with that, too.

"Yes, you're very lucky," Esperanza said. She didn't sense the bitterness and sarcasm in his tone, obviously, either that or she ignored it. "You will arrive and be checked in to your rooms. You two will be accommodated to in the apartments for two days while the others are in. Once all of the tributes are checked in, you will be escorted by me, of course, to prep rooms, where a personal stylist from the Capitol itself will be there to make sure you look your best. Then, you'll be taken out for the Capitol to see on chariots."

"Yeah, they'll parade us around before we go out for slaughter," Elijah muttered under her breath. Paulina laughed. Brandt had said he knew this kid, and now his older sister had an idea of why they were friends.

"Elijah! That is no attitude to have in your position," Esperanza said, shaking her head in a scolding manner. The boy sighed quietly but didn't pipe up again. "Anyways, after that, the next day you will be taken to a Capitol gym, where you'll have two days to learn all you can about surviving, also where you'll be able to take your first try at weapons." She smiled as if this was a piece of news, a piece of fun news, like she was telling a couple of kids they'd get playtime.

Paulina looked over at her District partner, who bit his lip, lips tight in a frown. He knew the implications this had, as did she.

"After that, it will be time for the big thing! The first Hunger Games!"

"It's sick," Elijah said. Paulina wished he would stop talking, for his own sake. She didn't want her District partner to be a target. Even though Paulina's relationship with her brother was rocky at best, she still wanted to look out for him. Even though she wasn't sure how much he actually felt, she knew that losing a sister and a friend in one year would not be good for him. She knew that there was no way both of them would die. They were from the District of weapons. She knew that they had an edge, they had to.

But deep down she knew they didn't. Neither of them had ever used weapons. Neither of them had ever dreamt of killing.

"I just know that District 2 will have the first ever Victor!" Esperanza said, clapping her hands.

Paulina swallowed hard, glancing at Elijah and trying not to look as afraid as she felt.

She could only hope.

~.~.

District 7

Flemming Hier was really scared that morning. When his older brother Malthe found him, he was crying in his room, covered in blankets.

"Flem?" The boy looked up and immediately relaxed at seeing the inviting presence of his big brother there. He was 14, old enough to be reaped, and he was extremely anxious, suffering from stage fright since he was a child.

"Malthe." He made room for his oldest brother to sit next to him.

"You okay kid?"

"Y-Yeah," choked Flemming, accepting the arm his brother put around him. "Just scared…"

"You have nothing to be worried about."

"B-But… Hillevi…" He was referencing their oldest sister, at 21, who was currently resting with burns on her face and a gunshot wound in her leg. She would only sit up to drink broth every once in a while.

"Hillevi was involved. But she wasn't the only one," Malthe rationalized. He was the right person for the job, as he was sweet and gentle, and his presence was very protective as he was built from working. "And she certainly wasn't the most extreme. And, if it really is random, then your name will truly only be in there three times. Thrice."

Flemming giggled. "Nobody says thrice anymore. Grandpa."

Malthe grinned at his little brother, just relieved to see him smile. "See? We'll be fine."

Malthe felt like a damn liar.

His District partner Suki was staring at him intensely, beckoning him to look up and stare her down, but Malthe didn't feel like having a staring contest with a girl he would have to kill. Malthe wanted to be back home, of course. Who wouldn't want to be home?

After checking on Flemming and getting him to laugh, Malthe moved on to his other brother, two years older than Flem at 16. Folke, however, was lying in his bed with another boy next to him. Malthe couldn't tell whether or not they were awake, but he didn't think they were wearing anything under the covers so he let them be. He knew Folk would be fine. After all, his ego was boosted by all the people that hit on him day in and day out.

Malthe had his share of admirers too, of course. He was just oblivious to that fact.

Malthe had walked to the reaping with his best friend Joe Sawyer, who was a year younger than him at 17. He affectionately called his friend Joey, which caused the other boy to protest but eventually accept the nickname. Joey was nervous, too, and seeing a bunch of people so obviously fawning over his best friend sent pangs of jealousy through him. He was in deep.

"You worried?"

"Nah." Joey was lying, but Malthe knew better than to push him. He just gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze as they went to get registered.

Registration took forever. They had no good record of all the District's people, and no idea which teens were still alive after the war. Joe and Malthe stood in line for close to an hour, registration taking at least half an hour. They waited together for another hour and a half before it actually started.

Malthe was here now. He had gotten plenty of kisses goodbye, one by one, from classmates that visited and thought they had a special moment with him. Joey seemed to be the only one that didn't give Malthe a kiss goodbye.

Now the boy was twirling his sandy hair around in his fingers, trying to avoid looking at his District partner, who stared at him. She was intense. He wasn't sure he could be that intense, even if he tired. No matter how much he wanted to get home. He knew he didn't have a choice, too. He had to grow a backbone if he wanted to see his brothers, his friends again.

Malthe knew that as soon as he got home he was going to have to break some hearts, though. After all, at least six of his classmates had visited him confessing their feelings and he hadn't said no to any of them. He was too soft. He had, like, four or five dates scheduled for when he got home.

But first, he had to get home.

Malthe only hoped that Folke would come through for Flemming. After all, Hillevi was only really good for an hour at most of the day, and Malthe wasn't totally sure that she understood what was happening. Flemming was old enough to be hit with all of it, he would have to watch and he would know exactly what was going on, and Malthe wouldn't be there to comfort him.

He was going to need someone there. He was going to need Folke.

Flemming often resented his older brother because Folke was so much more popular than he was. Malthe was popular, too, but he was 4 years older than Flemming, whereas Folke was only 2. All of Flemming's friends wanted to get to know Folke, which caused the two brothers to butt heads more often than not, especially when Folke reciprocated the flirting.

Malthe wasn't sure how things would go without him there. He was usually the mediator, because he knew that deep down, the brothers would be lost without each other. He knew that without him there, Folke and Flemming would either become closer than ever or completely removed from each other.

"Listen to me Folke. You can't cope with sex."

"Wow, what a great way to greet your damn brother after-" he was mad. His dark eyes were alight with rage. His dark brown hair was messed up from where he was running his hands through it. He was obviously a mess, already.

"Folke. I'm serious." Malthe knew his brother. He knew that the first place Folke would go would be in search of a new partner, someone that would let him unleash the rage he was holding.

"What's it to you!?"

"You have to be there for Flemming, Folke. I'm not going to be there, neither is Hillevi, neither will Mom and Dad. He's your responsibility. You have to be there for him. You can't be there for him if you're locked up in your bedroom!" Malthe wasn't stupid. He knew that his brother would bring in partner after partner, desperately trying to forget that his oldest brother wasn't there.

"I wouldn't-"

"You did." Malthe's voice took on an edge. "Remember when Hillevi was brought back after being wounded. We didn't see you in three days. Three days, Folke. If I hadn't been there for Flemming, the poor kid would have shut down. You can't leave him to his own devices for three days."

"I wouldn't!" he was getting defensive. Malthe figured he would.

"You would! I'm not here anymore, alright, maybe permanently! I'm not gonna be there to talk Flemming out of doing something he'd regret anymore!"

"What would Flemming of all people do?"

"I can think of a lot of shit," Malthe said. "He might run away, for starters. One day you could wake up and he could be gone. What would you do then? Or he could try to take after you and lose his virginity, but who with a conscience would willingly take a 14-year-old's virginity? What would you do then? What would you do if he was traumatized by being touched? Or he could be self-destructive, and that doesn't just mean cutting, Folke. How would you feel if you saw him carelessly injured, scarred, burned, throwing himself into danger? If he feels alone he could even end up dead. How would-"

"Stop!" Folke grabbed his brother's wrists, his dark eyes wide and desperate. "Please stop."

"Then be there for him. Before that happens." Malthe's point had been made. Folke didn't say anything else, he didn't fight anymore.

Malthe wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him close in a tight hug. Folke started to quiver, then he started to cry.

When Folke spoke again, his voice was tiny and weak. "What if you don't make it back?"

Malthe let Folke bury his face in his shoulder. "Then you'll be responsible for them."

Folke let out another sob, and Malthe held him close. "I'm scared," Folke finally said.

"You'll do fine." Malthe stroked his hair. "I know you will."

"You have to do everything you can to come back."

"I know."

When Folke raised his head, Malthe reached up, wiping his brother's tears away with his thumbs. "Please. Be smart."

"I will," Folke said, more tears replacing the ones Malthe had wiped away. "I promise."

"Love you."

Folke sniffled and let out another sob before gasping out, "Love you too!" He hadn't stopped crying when the Peacekeepers forced him away.

Malthe released a sigh, aching for his friends and family, for the familiar smell of the woods, for his home.

By now, it seemed a million miles away.

.

Suki Tachibana was waiting for her oaf of a District partner to look up.

She had been staring at him for a while now, trying to figure out the person he was going to be. She needed to know. He had seemed pretty shaken up when he was reaped, but hadn't said a word or expressed a single emotion since they had gotten on the train. She was waiting for him to do something. Say something. She was waiting for him to show some kind of emotion. He didn't, though.

Suki eventually got bored at looking at her District partner, as sexy as he was, and instead decided to stare out the window at the green trees that were passing by. All she wanted was to stop the train and go climb those trees. No tree was too tall for Suki. She often climbed instead of working, and got yelled at. They'd threatened to shoot her, but Suki knew when to let it go and climb down. She'd just wait a couple days to do it again.

She drummed her fingers on her lap, eager to get up and move around. She wanted Malthe to get up and challenge her to a fight, and was ready to clock him in the face. However, it seemed that wasn't how he was going to be, which left Suki to sit alone and do nothing.

The Capitolite that was escorting them had long since gone in the pursuit of medicine for her ailing stomach, leaving the two of them alone.

Malthe was older than Suki by two years, but Suki was agile and not afraid to have the element of surprise. However, she didn't want to attack unprovoked. So she waited.

District 7 was wide and spacious, with plenty of trees to separate the people, so Suki had never seen the boy, or anyone that was half as attractive as him, before in her whole life. That wouldn't stop her from punching his pretty face, though. Especially if that was what she would have to do to make it home to her friends and family.

Her parents were probably beside themselves. Suki didn't have any siblings, so she was her parents' only hope at carrying the name down.

Suki was named with the heavy-handed assistance of her grandparents, who both held tightly onto the Japanese culture of their ancestors. They spoke in it and wrote in it often enough to remember it. However, Suki's parents were not at all interested in learning about it, saying they had to move on, so Suki didn't know much about it, even though she was itching to know more. She remembered sitting with her grandmother and having lessons, but since her grandmother died when she was 7, there was a lot she never got to learn.

She looked like them, though, her ancestry evident in her light brown skin, fine, silky black hair, and brown eyes. She kept her hair up in two buns usually, rarely having any unwelcome stragglers.

Even when the Capitolite escort came back, she still looked woozy as she read the list of events from the clipboard.

Suki was relieved that they would get to do some training, but was nervous at the same time because that would mean that all 23 of the other tributes would get training too.

Suki wished she could know what kind of tributes she was working with, and what kind of strategy she would need. She knew she'd find out eventually, but the curiosity was itching now. She had already gone into survival mode, and her instincts weren't very patient. Which was why she was staring at Malthe. But he was no fun.

"We're still about a day out from the Capitol," the miserable escort said, clutching her stomach. Suki wasn't surprised when she made a beeline dash for another car so she could puke in peace. Suki wasn't sure why she was sick. Suki liked the motion of the train. She even got up and helped herself to a couple of croissants, because she could.

"Are you ready for whatever the hell this is Malthe?" asked Suki, looking for a reaction.

The boy just looked up at her for a second, as if trying to figure out if she was serious.

"Do you want the honest answer or the bullshit answer?"

"Honest. Duh." Suki was nothing but honest.

"Not at all."

Suki grinned and looked out at the trees, glad she wasn't alone.

"Yeah. Me neither."

~.~.

District 11

Drago Cross was just tired.

The reaping had been early that morning, and honestly all he cared about was going back to bed. But, alas. He was here, on a train, going to the Capitol, where he would have to do whatever the hell this thing was called again. The Hungry Games? Drago honestly didn't care. He didn't think it'd really happen. He didn't really study up on the details.

Speaking of hungry, his stomach rumbled. Drago saw food on one of the tables there, but was not really sure if he should eat it or let it be. After all, it might be poisonous or something. He didn't exactly trust the Capitol.

The girl from his District, however, was a big ball of energy. She was still talking, even though District 11 was miles and miles away. She must have been going on for at least a half an hour. She was a year younger than Drago at 14, so she definitely knew what was going to happen to them. She was just talking as a coping mechanism, Drago figured. Everyone had that thing that they did to try and shut out the pain. Drago's just happened to be… Shrugging it off.

He didn't care. He hadn't cared truly about anything since his parents had died. They were his best friends. Drago barely had any friends his age, and he had been orphaned by the war. Now he was being shipped off, probably to join his parents in death.

Maybe Drago should have been concerned for his brother.

Tory Cross, at 19 years old, had no family left at the moment.

Drago wasn't optimistic enough to think he could make it home, even if he tried. Maybe he was smart, maybe he was making a plan, maybe. But he figured that eventually it would just fail and he'd die.

Maybe Drago should have felt guilt, maybe he should've felt sorry that he shut his brother out after he'd lost both his parents. Maybe he should have put some effort into keeping their relationship strong. Tory had constantly tried to get Drago to open up to him, but the younger boy refused to crack.

Maybe Drago should have been sorry that he didn't try to get closer to Rafe. Tory's partner had moved in with the boys after his family cut ties with him.

Tory really cared about Rafe, Drago could see it in his eyes that he wanted his little brother and his partner to get along.

He knew that Tory thought it'd be good for Drago to have another adult around to influence him, and that Rafe was around for Tory's well-being too. Without him, Tory wouldn't have been able to keep going after losing both of his parents, and effectively his brother.

Drago never tried to get along with Rafe.

Rafe was 22 years old, significantly older than him, older than Tory, even. Drago knew that they didn't understand why he still held so tightly to his parents. Drago could see it in their eyes.

Rafe didn't seem to understand that Drago's parents didn't choose to leave him and Tory alone, whereas Rafe's parents chose to throw them out.

Rafe had no reason to care about his family. Drago and Tory did.

Tory was desperate to have order and harmony in the household. Even though he was the younger of the adults at 19, he did a lot of the housework and a lot of the finances, while Rafe went out to work in the fields and bring in money. Tory felt like his own house was a prison, but he couldn't get anywhere better and he refused to take Drago anywhere worse.

It didn't help that Drago walked in on them having sex once.

Drago probably should have been guilty that he had been so touchy and stubborn. He knew he had been impossible, and maybe he should have felt bad that he made things so hard for Tory when he was really just trying to keep things going and prevent Drago from being taken away.

He just couldn't.

Ever since he lost his parents, Drago hadn't put any effort into anything. He hadn't maintained any relationships. He hadn't worked at school, even though he was bright. He hadn't done any work or made any money. He hadn't even made the effort to smile, or thank Tory for all the hard work he did.

Maybe Drago should have felt bad for that. After all, Tory had done so much to keep food on the table, all while dealing with an irritable brother and a distraught partner. All while he was grieving, as well.

He really wanted to feel bad. He just didn't.

He really wanted to apologize, but Drago refused to do so unless he really truly meant his words. And he just didn't.

He could only hope that someday, he would.

For now, though, Drago just felt like the humanization of nothingness. He hadn't done much of anything. He didn't feel much of anything.

He watched his District partner talking, the way she was animated and smiling as she recounted her parents, her friends, her home.

But, he knew that he could only hope that someday, someday, he'd be able to feel something again.

.

Heidi Emerson just kept on talking.

The boy from her District let her go, and at the permission to keep talking, Heidi chattered about anything, anything but what was about to happen to them. The escort for District 11 had gone in search of alcohol, which wasn't provided on the train for fear that minors would get into it. Sure, minors couldn't have a simple swig of alcohol, but they can surely fight each other to the death. Heidi decided to talk about that for a while, seeing as nothing was stopping her.

She played with one of two thick braids of black hair that went down to her shoulders as she went on. Her District partner looked like the majority of their home District, with dark skin, brown eyes, and short black hair. He wasn't so scary, just quiet. And he was a very good listener, too.

Heidi shared this look, with dark skin, and bright brown eyes. She talked for a while about that, about how there may have been a time when they were as pale as Capitolites, happily talking about what she'd learned about evolution in class.

Somewhere deep within her, she knew that Drago wasn't really listening. He was probably thinking the same things she constantly heard from her peers.

"Lower your voice, Heidi, you're so loud."

"You're so annoying!"

"Not now, really, I have other things to do."

"Shut up! Just…. Shut up!"

"Nobody cares!"

Really, the words weren't unfamiliar. It didn't mean they didn't hurt still, but Heidi had definitely heard them before. Multiple times.

Heidi's parents took turns listening to their daughter talk. They had to take turns because they were both heavily tied into the rebel cause, and had work to do for their share of the cause. As revenge for their actions, their only daughter, 14-year-old Heidi, was put here.

Heidi didn't know that, though. She didn't have a clue. She just knew that she was going to have to kill to survive. She knew that no matter what, she had to get back. Her parents were devastated when her name was called. They were screaming and crying. Heidi didn't want that.

Their escort put on the reapings for them to watch on the train that evening. The sky was dark, the stars out and shining bright. The escort said to pay attention after telling Heidi to shut up. Now, the three of them watched the screen. Drago's eyes were droopy, he obviously didn't care much about seeing the other tributes. Heidi, in contrast, drank in every detail she possibly could about her competition.

District 1 was so surreal. Heidi thought of it as a beautiful place, but here it was. The Square was pretty for the cameras, but the District behind it was half-destroyed. The escort chose two names.

The first name, Champagne Walker, belonged to an 18-year-old girl with curly blonde hair and green eyes that were wide with shock as she walked up to the stage. The second tribute was an 18-year-old boy named Platinum Krietzer, who stepped out from his section, looking somewhat dazed, as he went up to the stage.

After that came District 2. The first name belonged to a boy named Elijah Crowley, who was quivering as he walked to the stage. Heidi heard some screaming coming from the crowd when he was picked. The second name called was Paulina Manson, a girl with black hair let down and green eyes, who walked up to the stage without showing a single emotion.

District 3's male tribute was 16-year-old Kepler Johnson, who kept looking behind his shoulder as he walked up to the stage, eyes pooling with tears when he finally reached the escort's side. The female was a 14-year-old with blonde hair named Rosalind Bichler. She bit her lip, shaking slightly, as she met them on the stage. She sniffled when she looked out across the crowd.

District 4 reared a 15-year-old named Crickette Jenson, who was wearing a white ballcap with light, rusty hair poking out in a ponytail. If they were afraid, they didn't show it as they walked cheerfully up to the stage. The other tribute was Drake Fellington, an 18-year-old with thick, curly black hair, tan skin, and green eyes. He was scowling as he made the trip up the steps.

District 5's first tribute was 16-year-old Charge Mayer, a boy with brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes. He didn't know what was happening, he walked to the stage slowly, looking cautious but not afraid. The female tribute was chosen next, an 18-year-old named Watt Fairbend. She walked to the stage, twirling her hair around her finger and biting her lip.

District 6 first reaped a girl named Kaya Toft, who came out from the section for 17-year-olds, her mouth turned down in an angry snarl, eyes icy cold. Heidi noticed that her hair was held up by a sky blue bandana that was stained with blood. Heidi already feared her. The male tribute was named Henry Bell, and he stepped out of the section for 16-year-olds. He had blond hair and dark eyes, walking slowly to the stage as if he was giving up.

District 7 was next. The boy, Malthe Hier, was 18 and looked incredibly strong. However, he also had soft brown eyes. Heidi wasn't sure what to think of him yet. He was attractive, for sure. But she couldn't tell if he was nice or not. The girl tribute was Suki Tachibana, a 16-year-old who was glaring the whole way up to the stage. Heidi feared her, too.

District 8's female tribute was named Duffel Shoemaker. Heidi watched as he shoved his way out of his section and stomped to the stage, smoothing down his dress and going up the stairs. He had hair that was singed off and short, and fiery eyes. The male tribute was reaped next. He was a 14-year-old boy named Knut Passerini. The escort pronounced his name like "nut," causing the boy the grab the mic and tell everyone that "it's not fucking nut, it's Knut. Pronounced like noot. KNUT." Heidi giggled at that, causing Drago to stir slightly and roll over on the couch.

The female tribute from 9 is a 17-year-old named Rune Lachapelle. The first thing Heidi, anyone, notices about her is her outfit: not the off-white dress shirt and dark gray dress pants, but the suspenders around her shoulders, decorated brightly with the colors of the rainbow. Heidi was pretty she knew what she was wearing. She looked pretty confident when she reached the stage, her light brown ponytail swaying behind her as she went. The boy was named Guiness Fielder. The 15-year-old had copper hair and freckles, he rushed to the stage, eyes glassy with tears, as if he was going to burst into tears.

District 10's first tribute was an 18-year-old girl named Jessie Adams. She had brown hair over her shoulder in a side braid. She made it to the stage without letting any emotion out. The boy was a 17-year-old named Oliver Wilson. He went out from the crowd, looking slightly dazed but smiling when he noticed the cameras. He had shaggy, dark hair and bright eyes.

Heidi and Drago's reaping was next. Drago was reaped first, walking to the stage and looking pretty bored. Heidi's was not nearly as graceful. She had gone into shock when her name was called, and it had to be called twice. She ran up to the stage, the tears immediately beginning to flow at the realization of what was happening. She sobbed as the escort made them shake hands and presented them one last time.

District 12's female tribute was a 12-year-old named Chicory Kneller. She had olive skin, dark hair, and gray eyes that were wide as she made the long walk past the other girls of her District to the stage. She was quivering when she got up there, and started to cry as people in the crowd began to shout angrily. The escort kept going, though. The boy was an 18-year-old named Dill Archer, with the same olive skin and gray eyes, and slightly lighter brown hair. He was tall and strong, and his face was set, which made Heidi fear him. He made it to the stage and didn't express any emotion. The screaming increased, though, more people were screaming louder than before, as the camera quickly cut out.

Octavian Spencer was a very inviting person, and seemed to be a familiar face even though Heidi hadn't ever seen him before today. She could believe what he was saying, though. Something about the way he talked, the way the words were phrased, convinced her that every tribute had an equal chance, even if she knew it wasn't true.

"Well, Heidi, I think you should get some sleep. We're still a couple days away from the Capitol."

The bed Heidi had to sleep on was a million times more comfortable than the one she had at home.

She found sleep to come easily.

~.~.

A/N: There you have it, our first view of the tributes! I'll be doing four pre-Games chapters, each of which will have three Districts so you can meet each tribute before the Games begins. As opposed to the first draft, which had only two pre-Games chapters, which means that even if you read the first draft you'll have more chances to earn some points!

Alright, well, there are some familiar faces here, and there are some new ones. I'm gonna post the first introductions of these tributes from the first draft onto my Tumblr, if you wanna read the horrible old Celtic writing and compare it to this and see my growth! I think I've grown a lot since three years ago, lol

Also, I'm making a new rule: if the CQ has a * by it, that means that even if you read the first draft you get points for answering it. That'll keep me sane I think.

* Chapter Question: Which of the six tributes in this chapter was your favorite and why? Were there any you didn't like?