I've been waiting at our spot in the woods for a few minutes before I hear her footsteps behind me. Katniss. Her foot falls are light, and barely there- I've taught her how to make them quiet as possible- but I still catch the whispers they make as her boots tread over the leaves and grasses of the forest.

"Hey, Catnip," I say. A smile rises on my face at the sight of her instantaneous smile. She never smiles outside these woods. Not like she does here, anyways. Out there, she might smirk at a joke under mumbled breaths with me in the hallways, or offer a soft smile to Prim, her younger sister, or Posy, my younger sister; but here is where she truly smiles. Her eyes light up and her nose crinkles ever so slightly, and she even laughs on occasion. I try to rise one of these rare laughs from her with my next remark.

"Look what I shot." I hold up the loaf of bread from Mellark's bakery. I've stuck an arrow through the middle, and the joke does get her to laugh as I'd hoped. Katniss takes it from me and pulls the arrow out, then breaks it in half.

"God, this smells amazing. It's still warm and everything," she says, taking in the scent of the freshly baked loaf. "How much did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," I answer. "Generous. Guess he felt bad for me, some kid from the Seam with his name written on dozens of slips," I say, looking out to the forest that stretches out beyond. There's silence for a brief moment, and then I speak again. "Forty two times. How many is your name in for?" I ask, meeting her gaze once again.

"Twenty," Katniss answers. She pauses for a minute before exclaiming, "Oh! Prim left us a cheese."

I welcome her distraction. "Thank you, Prim. We'll feast like Capitol citizens today." I take a portion of the cheese Katniss offers me and spread a thin layer of it over the bread before taking a bite into the wedge. "I almost forgot," I say, reaching out and plucking a berry from the bushes that enclose our meeting place. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds-" Here, I toss a blackberry towards her, and she catches it in her mouth. "Be ever in your favor!" she finishes, mimicking the Capitol accent. I laugh and shake my head; do those frilly, colorful birds realize how silly they sound when they speak?

I pull out a knife and slice the other portion of the bread with more care; the two of us have already inhaled the first half without much thought. I spread Prim's soft cheese over the slices, then place a basil leaf in the center as Katniss gathers handfuls of berries from the bushes that surround us. From here, we can see everything these woods have to offer. The rivers are glistening in the sunlight, full of fish and thick with reeds and edible roots. Vines and other plant life heavy with fruit are abundant, and nooks and crannies for hiding- or living in- are everywhere. There are caves, or creeks where a dug out could be constructed; more wood then we'd ever need to make a house or a cabin. I've considered the idea a thousand times, but for some reason, in light of the day's coming events, I vocalize it to Katniss for the first time.

"We could do it, you know," I say quietly.

"What?" she asks, turning to look at me curiously.

"Leave the district. Run off, live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," I explain. I know the two of us would survive easily. Build a comfortable but small home, hunt and fish by day and sit around a warm fire at night. Then I realize that the two of us have families; mothers, children, who depend on us to feed them, take care of them, fend for them. Sometimes, in the woods, I forget all this, and get caught up in the pair of us alone. "If we didn't have so many kids," I add quickly.

Katniss' expression relaxes slightly at this. "You think?" she asks.

"Do I lie to you, Catnip?" I reply easily. She already knows the answer, and doesn't bother to say it, only acknowledging my answer with an eye roll and a slight smirk.

The rest of the morning carries on as our days off always do. We hunt and gather and fish, and by noon we've collected a gallon of strawberries, a bucket full of fish, and a bag of edible greens to feast on tonight after the Reaping. After our usual rounds of selling off or trading away portions of all our goods, we part ways; Katniss waves to me, expressionless, from the top step of her porch, and I continue further down the road to my own home.

When I get in the front door, I am immediately tackled by Posy. She hangs on to my leg and I laugh as her hands cling desperately to me. "What is it now?" I ask, shaking my head as I drop my bag by the door. "Vick win in hide and go seek?"

Posy shakes her head emphatically. "No!" she exclaims loudly. "Momma wants me to get dressed up now, and I don't wanna!" Posy's expression shows no humor; her eyebrows are furrowed and she displays a frown on her face.

I pick her up easily and toss her over my shoulder. "I know it's not fun, but we have to go," I explain, sighing. "All the other girls there will be wearing dresses or skirts too, you know," I inform her. Posy's neck snaps up and she looks at me curiously.

"Are you sure?" she asks me.

"Positive," I reply, walking back towards the bedroom with Posy still holding on to my shoulder.

"Like who?"

"Like… Mom. And Prim. And Katniss," I say, entering her shared bedroom with the other boys and I. "Look, you've got a pretty dress, don't you wanna look pretty today?" I coax her, motioning to the small dress my mother has left on the bed for Posy. It's grey, with tiny white flowers scattered on the fabric. My mother made it out of the material from one of her old dresses that was too thin to wear any longer.

Eventually, I manage to get Posy to wear the dress. My mother smiles thankfully at me from the door frame, and I have a feeling she has been standing there watching us for a few minutes. I stand up and go to hug her, but she stops me just before I wrap my arms around her.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"It's no problem," I reply, brushing her words away. "Posy's ready to go, and that's what matters."But my mother is insistent.

"No, not for that," she continues. "For… for everything." She doesn't have to explain further. I can read her expression easily, and I barely smile at her, hoping she understands that I know what she means. She allows me to hug her then, and then, after a moment, loosens her grasp on me.

"Go get cleaned up." My mother claps my shoulder. "We need to be leaving soon."

I nod in response and go wash my face in the main room of the house. A basin with clean water sits atop a table, built by my father before he died. He built most of the furniture himself, purchasing the wood from the depot in the center of town by the train station, and then fashioning it during his rare free evenings. Around the table sits five of the chairs he made, but there is a sixth, unmatching chair on the end. Posy's seat. My father never got to finish the high chair he was building before he died in a mine explosion.

Ten minutes later, I am ready, as are Rory, Vick, Posy, and my mother. Together, we set out for the square, where the Reaping will take place. The walk is mostly quiet; I can only speak for myself when I say I am thinking of the forty two times my name is inside those glass bowls, but I can guess that at least my mother is thinking of it, too.

On the brighter side, this is my last year in the Reaping. Then again, next year, Rory will have his name in three times. The fewest amount of entries possible for his age group. My mother and I refuse to allow any of the boys or Posy to ever take out tesserae.

We arrive at the square ten minutes before two. It's already filled with silent crowds of children, sorted up by gender and age group. My mother goes to stand with Vick and Posy where the families are ordered to watch, and Rory and I go to check in with the Peacekeepers at the tables. Once they have pricked our fingers and blotted our blood into their books, I direct him towards the boys of his age group, and then join the other boys in mine. I look across to the girls' side of the square and see Katniss standing with the sixteens, her face blank. It only takes a moment for her to feel my gaze upon her and then she meets it. I must look ashen-faced, because she immediately opens her mouth to try and communicate something with me, but the anthem begins and I am forced to face the front, and watch as the mentors and the mayor begin the ceremony.

It all goes by in an blur- even Haymitch Abernathy's drunken appearance, our best shot at comedic relief- and all of a sudden, Effie Trinket is tapping the microphone and announcing, "Ladies first!"

Her ridiculous heels click across the concrete stage, and then she stops behind the large glass bowl that holds all the girls' slips. She reaches one thin hand with impressively claw-like nails attached to her fingers into the bowl, then pulls out a single slip. The tension is thick, and I see the mothers clutch their hands with baited breaths, praying their daughters are not called to the stage.

Not Katniss, Not Katniss, Not Katniss. The words are rapidly repeating themselves in my head, so much so that they are the only words I can hear. When I finally hear the name called, Effie's high pitched voice piercing through my hurricane of thoughts, the name isn't Katniss Everdeen. The name is Primrose Everdeen.

Everything seems to slow down; my thoughts, my reflexes, my heartbeat. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. The air in my lungs has escaped and my chest rises and falls, struggling to take in breath. I watch as the crowd parts around Prim, hoping she will step forward and take her place. The mothers are staring at her open-mouthed; Prim is so small, so tiny. They pity her, and some even cry, but Mrs Everdeen herself shows no emotion. She stares ahead as if her child has not been called to her death, to her grave.

I have to move, I have to do something. My feet carry me towards the outward aisle, and the boys around me part to allow me to pass.

And then Katniss is screaming Prim's name, and Prim is screeching for Katniss as the guards come and surround her. I have to reach her. Prim. Or Katniss- I'm not too sure which. Katniss' face contorts with fury and she is running, pushing away the guards, and it is then that I know what she's going to say before she says it.

Knowing does not take the pain away. I have never been stabbed, only clawed or cut or burned, but the emotion that overwhelms my chest now is worse than all three together. I would rather suffer through all three, or worse, far, far, worse, than hear the words that Katniss screams in desperation, than watch her go into the arena.

"I volunteer!" Her voice is shrill. Cracked with emotion. I am standing in the center aisle and uncertain of what to do until Prim begins to clutch to Katniss, and it is then that I race forward. Katniss repeats herself, more steady this time. This does not lessen the grip of pain on my chest."I volunteer as tribute."

I pull Prim from Katniss; she is crying and kicking and I'm afraid the Peacekeepers will lash out at her. I pick her up and hoist her over my shoulder, the same way I carry Posy at home. "Up you go, Catnip," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady as I am forced away from Katniss. I lock eyes with her for a moment that takes no time but lasts a thousand heartbeats, and then they push her forward and she is going up the stage steps, going to stand by Effie, going to leave me.

I can't stand in the aisle and watch, though. I tear my eyes from her and focus on Mrs. Everdeen, who watched the events unfold with only slight interest. This angers me more than it should, and my steps are faster, quicker. Prim continues to cry out and I lower my voice to speak so only she can hear me.

"It's okay, Prim. It's okay. It's okay." I am lying and I am repeating myself and Prim knows it and I know it, but she quiets herself to a soft sob. I rub her back slightly; my mother taught me that the motion soothes children back when Posy would have trouble sleeping due to hunger, cold, or sickness. It seems to help a little, but then I hear it. I am only just putting Prim down with her mother when I hear Effie Trinket announce that she will be reaping the boy's name next, after an oh-so-exciting turn of events, isn't it just so thrilling?

This, how she sees Katniss' sacrifice for her sister, as thrilling sickens me. My stomach twists and I barely manage to press a kiss to Prim's forehead before I must sprint back to the boys half of the square. My footsteps are loud, unlike they are in the woods; they echo against the pavement and I am painfully aware that stares are being directed towards me.

I make it back to the group as Effie pulls out the slip- it is already in her grasp, and I have no time to hope that the name isn't mine. When she opens it, and reads the name out to a crowd, I wonder if one last wish would have made a difference.

Because the name she reads out is my own.