Here's another chapter. Thought I'd write one while the ideas were fresh in my head. Don't expect another for a bit. Hope you liked this one though!

Also, if you're confused, Leader Bumblebee is Mayor Undersee, Match is Madge Undersee, Trinket is Effie Trinket, Peat is Peeta Mellark, and the deathberries are like the mocking-jays. Get it? Got it? Good.

Characters

Catmint
dark brown she-cat with white muzzle and paws, black flecks around pale green eyes; sister of Primrose, daughter of Dawn and Coal; cat of Division Twelve

Leader Bumblebee
pale brown tabby tom; father of Match; leader of Division Twelve

Match
pale brown she-cat; daughter of Leader Bumblebee; cat of Division Twelve

Primrose
cream-furred she-cat with blue eyes and a stub of tail; sister to Catmint, daughter of Dawn and Coal; cat of Division Twelve

Dawn
cream-furred she-cat; mother of Catmint and Primrose, former mate of Coal, cat of Division Twelve

Nightingale
skinny black tom with brown underbelly, chest, and muzzle; brother of Silks and Maxy; cat of Division Twelve

Trinket
pale golden she-cat with amber eyes, dyes fur often; escort of Division Twelve for Hunting Games

Peat
golden tabby tom with blue eyes; cat of Division Twelve

Just a few more hours, and then the random poor innocent kit who found a dark red stain on their stone would be named. Catmint sighed as she plucked the last of the plump raspberries off of the bush in the abandoned Twoleg garden.

She wrapped the berries in are large leaf and grasped the package in her jaws as she made her way back to the Division Twelve encampment. The main camp was ringed by the large, elaborate dens that housed the Mainland cats. When she found the one she was looking for, she tapped her claws against a stone at the entrance, requesting entry.

This was Leader Bumblebee's den. He was of clan descent, like the rest of the Division cats; a local leader was appointed to each Division so that the residents could be governed partially by one of their own. Bumblebee was a kind old tom. He wasn't very bold, or confident, but he reasoned well with the harsh, strict Mainland guards, and made sure that the Division cats' lives weren't completely miserable.

Leader Bumblebee's daughter, Match, appeared at the entrance. She was nice, like her father, and had been a sort of a friend to Catmint in their unpleasant life. She would not be counting her blessings today at the Drawing. She was safe. It was unfair, but understandable.

"Hello, Catmint," she mewed with a soft smile. Her amber eyes darted to the leaf wrap in Catmint's mouth. "What's that you got there?"

Catmint placed her burden at her feet. "The raspberries your father wanted, Match," she explained, grinning back civilly.

Match's eyes lit up with delight, and she leaned down in front of Catmint to snatch the parcel up. As Match's head lowered, Catmint's eyes caught on a small bright red berry tucked into the curve of Match's right ear.

Catmint ordinarily detested the practice of decorating one's self with flowers, leaves, fur, and berries. But the simplistic blotch of color suited Match's brown form well. Catmint recognized the small fruit as a deathberry.

Deathberries were very common around the lake. Hence the name, the consumption of even just one deathberry meant certain death. Early after the clans' defeat, when cats were first required to collect berries and herbs along with prey for the Mainland cats, the clan cats, being native to the lake territories, were familiar with deathberries.

The clan cats began to intentionally collect deathberries with their other deposits, and when the berries were eaten by the Mainland cats, they would die, obviously.

As soon as the Mainland cats realized what was happening, the plotted to rid the lake territories of the deadly plants. The bushes were dug up, every last one. The Mainland cats weren't sure where to put the bushes, so, for the time being, they were placed up on the bare hills of the moorland.

The constant, violent winds of the moor plucked the berries up and and tossed them everywhere, hence planting the bushes in all places on the lake territtories, so that there were even more deathberry bushes than before. The population grew overwhelming and the mainland cats concluded to leave the bushes be. But the collection of deathberries was forbidden, and punishable by execution, so the deathberry could no longer be a secret weapon of the Division cats.

Even so, the deathberries represented one of the few failures of the Mainland cats, a painful sign that was easily a scratch on the nose, whenever displayed, such as on a cat as a decoration.

Match noticed that Catmint's gaze had fastened on her small adornment, and flashed a pearly grin. "Speaking of berries, do you like it? It was my idea. The color suits me well, doesn't it?" she asked.

Catmint wasn't exactly sure was she was talking about, but nodded, and once again returned Match's smile. And, because she had no further business, she trotted out of the dwelling-place of many of her enemies, who of which some had begun to give her suspicious glowers.

Back in the den with her mother and younger sister, Catmint slicked the shaggy tuft of fur on Primrose's forehead back with her tongue. "There you go, Duck-tail, ready to go to the Drawing?" she asked in a cheerful voice.

Primrose's lip quivered, but she swallowed her anxiety and nodded mutely. Catmint gave her a reassuring smile, and a nuzzle between the ears.

Dawn entered the den, a bit of grub in her jaws. She placed the stinking food at her younger daughter's feet, and gave her an affectionate lick. "Here, eat this before you go to the main camp, Primrose. You look absolutely beautiful," she commented, and then turned to the older of her kits. "Ready?" she questioned softly.

Catmint gave a slight nod, without speaking. Ever since Coal had died, their mother-daughter relationship had been reserved, and cold.

After Primrose had licked up the small piece of crow-food, they departed and were herded into the main camp with the rest of the cats in their age group. There, they were seperated, Primrose into six-moons-old section, and Catmint into the ten-moons-old section.

Catmint spotted Nightingale a ways away in the crowd. He grinned at her, as they got into line to receive their stones.

The Mainland cat distributing the pile of muddy stones stared down at her, as he was monstrously large. "Name?" he huffed in a gruff voice.

"Catmint."

"Number of stones issued?"

"Eight, sir."

The Mainland cat passed her the eight stones one by one, and Catmint rolled the stones out of the way so that the next cat could step up.

After everyone had gotten the stones that they had issued, Trinket, her fur colored pink, and Leader Bumblebee mounted on the boulder at the front of the encampment. Leader Bumblebee recited the Sacred Law, and then Trinket took the stage.

"Welcome, young cats of Division Twelve, to this green-leaf's Drawing of Stones! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" she said in a clear, dramatic voice, and then paused, as if waiting to be applauded. When the gathered crowd of juveniles made no sound, she continued. "Well, then, let us begin!"

Catmint braced herself. She prayed to, uh... the Star cats, or whatever there was up there in the sky, and gritted her teeth as she thought of what would happen if on of her stones was blood-stained.

"She-cats," Trinket meowed, "Uncover your stones!"

Catmint did not hesitate, and, one after the other, wiped away the mud on each of her eight stones to find a clean, gray surface. She let out a sigh of relief. Everything would be fine, just fine.

"Now, who is the lucky she-cat?" Trinket drawled. The crowd was silent. And then, barely audible, there came a gasp. It was actually so high-pitched that it was more a squeak. It was a squeak that Catmint recognized.

The crowd parted, to reveal a tiny trembling cream-furred she-cat, with only a stub of a tail. Catmint took a second to register this in her brain.

"What is your name, darling?" said the escort sweetly, a poisoned-honey smile curling eerily onto her face.

"Pri-Primrose," said the quiet, terrified voice.

"No," Catmint whispered, her eyes widening. "No!" she said again, only her voice was a shout, and not a whisper. "No! No! No, Primrose, no!" She rang out in a chorus of distressed cries, like that of a mother watching her child toddle into the claws of death.

She was running through the crowd now, shoving her way past other cats in her way. Two hardy Mainland cats tried to contain her, but she dashed away from them, to where Primrose was being led up to the boulder.

Five Mainland cats fell on her at once, holding her down as she screamed, "No! No! No!"

Primrose was now struggling as well, as she sobbed, "Catmint! Ca-Catmint!"

The other young cats watched in horror, as the two sisters were torn apart. They could do nothing. All they could do is watch them with a look a pity and sadness, and thank the spirits that it was these to unfortunate cats, and not themselves.

Catmint struggled hard, clawing and biting, her green eyes fixed on the tiny, skinny cream form that was pawing at her captors with no effect.

And then, in a split second, everything made sense. Catmint knew what she had to do, and though it would cause pain to everyone she knew, and probably cause her death, it was the only way Primrose would survive. With her, there was a chance. She knew how to handle Twolegplaces, and she was four moons older, but there was certainly no chance with Primrose.

She quit struggling, and the Mainland cats planted her onto the earth, a sharp pebble piercing her flank painfully. "I volunteer!" she screamed from the ground where she was pinned down. "I volunteer as a tribute!"

Everyone froze. For a few seconds that seemed like hours, no one moved or made a sound. And then, Trinket, of course, broke the dead silence. "What an unusual event! Why don't you come up here with me, young she-cat?" she purred gleefully.

Catmint's breathing was hard and violent as she bit back the tears that were stinging her eyes. She hesitantly pattered through the crowd, and scraped her way up the boulder slowly, all this time taking in what she had done.

She was in the Hunting Games.

She almost didn't hear it when Trinket asked, "What is your name, darling?"

Catmint swallowed, and said in a bold voice, "Catmint." Her one-word statement was greeted by a series of soft whispers rippling through the crowd. Primrose was still sobbing, still struggling in vain against the Mainland cats that were holding her back.

Trinket put an overly fluffy tail on Catmint's shoulders. Catmint had to grit her teeth to resist the urge to shrug it off. "Cats of Division Twelve! You have your she-cat tribute!" Trinket told the crowd, though they already were aware of what she was speaking of. "Catmint!"

"And now for the toms! Toms, uncover your stones!" There was a prompt scratching noise as all of the toms scraped the mud off of their stones. A loud, startled grunt emanated from the rear of the body of gathered cats.

A bulky, well-groomed golden tabby tom was the source of the sound. "And what is your name, young one?" Trinket chimed.

The golden tabby walked on trembling legs to the stand. When he reached the boulder, he mewed in a barely audible voice, "Pe-Peat."