A/N: THE HUNGER GAMES and all recognizable characters belong to their respected owners.
This is short, I know. But deal with it. It's taken me a LONG time to post and I'm uber sorry, but the winds of life and horrors of school have swept me up and kept me busy. Oopsies! Anyways... Enjoy, give me criticism, and whatnot. This is the first tribute I recieved courtesy of Faded Feathers (don't worry, I've still got more written, just haven't got around to posting).
"Roquelle Dred."
I blink. This can't be real. No. Not her. She repeats the name and I feel myself numbly stumble forward. I used to babysit Roquelle, and she looks as if she isn't much older than ten. Tiny Roquelle makes her way up to the stand and I feel myself begin to cry. I won't let her be sent off to die.
"I volunteer. I will take her place." I yell.
"We aren't accepting volunteers this year, dear. Your—"A girl with dark hair and grey eyes touches her shoulder and nods her head.
"Fine. You can be tribute, but you are the only exception," she mumbles sourly. Shouldn't she be glad I volunteered? It adds for more drama and suspense in the games, and that's all the viewers care about. How entertaining our encounters are, and whether or not we die violently enough.
I run up to the stands, tripping in my fur boots all the way. When I make it to the top, I stand confidently in front of the crowd and state my full name.
"And how old are you, Ms. Amaryllis?" Her squeaky voice irritates me.
"Call me Juniper," I snap back. She seems irritated and flustered. It makes me smile, despite my somber mood, "and I'm 16."
