I sit in the tree a little longer, picking leaves off the side of the small branch next to me. The twig was almost not real as I sat there. The last 10 seconds of my life that I had just recapped in my head I couldn't get rid of. It's stuck there like the way that a big cat sticks with its prey. Looking over everything I guess what I had just been told sort of just fits.

Mum had never been the same as all the other mums. She was always quiet, the other mums would talk to her when they were picking children up from school but at the end of the day you could see that they never really talked to her. She always seemed to be put apart from the rest. As though she was shunned for some reason, almost like she had some type of a disease. Now I find out that the only thing wring with her in the end was that she was one of the unfortunate ones that ended up having to compete in the Hunger Games.

The name used to freak me out alone. Hunger games, I mean, the word hunger doesn't really make you feel all that great. It used to creep me out when I was little. When you first find out about the games way back when your little you just presume it's a thing of the past. But I guess now it means now that it's always going to be in mine. It's there now. Lingering.

How am I going to be able to face mum now. Dad's easy, I know he will understand that I would have been told at school and one day I would have also been told that both my parents were a part of the games of the past. Mum wouldn't even let me and Charlie talk about it when he found out at school. Dad would talk to both me and my brother about it. It made us feel a little bit better. Mum would start shaking, then she would have to go out the room. Anywhere but near us. She couldn't show us, let us see that the games affected her, let us see that she was afraid of something that we only knew about in theory.

A deer struts past, they do this a lot when they don't think anyone is watching. Almost in the end they're the ones that are in charge. I knew that if I had my bow I would be able to shoot this one and take it to the market. Should I really do that now? I mean, is it because I'm naturally good at hunting or is it just because of who my parents are? When you think about it they have killed, not because they want to but because they had too. No wonder mum always shook. Can you think about killing another person? I know I certainly can't.

My parents did though.

How?

No.

Another human should never take another humans life.

No.

I don't think I want to go home. Why should I?

Footfalls in the wood enlighten to me the fact I have a visitor. I listen. Hard. Nothing, as though they have just disappeared. I only know of one other person that can hide like I can. Mum. I slide down the trunk of my tree to reach the ground. Landing on the balls of my feet I don't make a noise. I follow the normal footfalls we would take. Up the hill, past the river view and to the top where I know she will be.

I reach out spot. The one where she took me first time I went into the woods. The first time she showed me how to shoot and arrow straight, when she hid my bow in the same tree trunk as hers.

There she was. On her own. Flipping something in her hand. I drew closer, the thing in her hand caught the sun and the glean that it took from the sun shot back into my eyes. I cried out suddenly and shortly, but enough for mum to know where I was and that I needed help. She moved off the ground smoothly and quickly, reached me in seconds. Up in her embrace I went. Safe. Then BANG. We hit the floor.

I couldn't remember what had happened but I knew for certain that mum had pulled me down. I was now sandwiched between her and the ground. Something was hitting the floor. They were too far away. Then a whistle passed me. Shit. Was that an arrow?