Wow, 17 reviews the first chapter; thanks to all who reviewed! To those who I can't reply to: fox- Thanks! Yes, it all becomes revealed in this chapter. Jane- Thanks so much for the kind review! It made me laugh (in a good way).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Here we go! Please read and review!

"Say that again…slower," slurred Haymitch in the front passenger seat. While driving, Madge stole a quick look at him. Yes, the telltale top of a whiskey bottle was sticking out of his pocket. Madge sighed in frustratration. You'd think that with people's lives on the line; he could hold off a bit on the drinking!

"What does that mean?" asked Prim. "I thought District 13 was obliterated after the major rebellion seventy-five years ago. At least, that's what I was taught in history class."

"No, what you've been taught is correct, District 13 was destroyed," said Madge. They're never going to believe this…

Gale leaned closer in order to hear better over the whistling wind. "Then why are we going there?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, cut to the chase. You really keep us hanging, you know that?" burst out Haymitch. He was just lowering the bottle of whiskey away from his mouth.

Madge held on to the steering yoke of the bike with one hand, and grabbed the alcohol bottle away from Haymitch with the other. "That's quite enough for you for one day. Why don't you take a nap or something?"

"Not until I hear this," Haymitch said. "C'mon sweetheart, what's the deal?"

Madge took a deep breath. "OK then," she said cautiously. "The reason we're going to District 13…is because we'll find people there. People that are ready and willing to help our cause."

Prim sat up straight in surprise. "There's people living in District 13!?" she exclaimed.

Madge replied with a simple, "Yes."

"You know that for sure?" asked Gale. His voice made it clear that he thought the news was too good or too unbelievable to be true.

Madge sighed. This wasn't going to sound good. "No," she admitted. "But my father told me that if something like this ever happened, District 13 would be the place to go to."

"Really?" asked Prim.

"Really," said Mage. She could still remember the day…

In fact, it was the very day that the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games had ended. The Undersees had been throwing a grand party at their lavish house, hosting various officials, Peacekeepers, mainly the few well-to-do members of District 12. Madge never liked these parties, but she gritted her teeth and put on a cheery façade. Smiling, laughing, and acknowledging various people and dignitaries with warm greetings even though she had no idea what their name was. What else was the Mayor's daughter expected to do?

So after the multiples of people had left, (some of them staggering out because of the heavy celebratory intoxication that was the inevitable effect of District 12 turning out victorious in the Hunger Games) after Madge had helped her father pick up the scattered debris from the floor, after the house was once again spotless, Mayor Undersee had said, "Madge, can I talk to you seriously for a moment?"

"Sure, dad," replied Madge. They both took seats in the plush salon. Madge plopped down on the two-seater couch, and her father eased himself gingerly onto an armchair across from her. "What's up?"

The Mayor sighed. "The thing is, dear…this double win is not going to make the Capitol happy. You're sixteen now, so I figure it's time for you to know a few more things about the realities of this world. The Capitol is going to want to retaliate in some way. It may be tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, but no matter how long it takes, the Capitol will strike back at District 12."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Madge with a touch of fear.

"Because…as you know, I'm not a big fan of the Capitol. I don't agree with their wanton cruelty, their ongoing reign of tyranny, many things…but that's not the point. The point is, as my daughter, you may find yourself in danger one day. And if that day ever comes, Panem forbid, you're going to need a safe haven. A place to go to if you're…shall we say…on the run."

"And where would that place be?"

The Mayor leaned closer, and at that moment, his face was the most serious and most grave that Madge had ever seen it. Madge recoiled a bit out of reflex. "District 13," her father said.

So as Madge continued to swerve the hoverbike around trees and bushes and such in the forest, she fervently hoped that her father was right. Because if there turned out to be nothing in District 13...where else would they go?

"Hey, this tastes pretty good," remarked Gale from the backseat of the bike. Whipping around, Madge saw that he had just taken a modest sip from Haymitch's whiskey bottle.

In exasperation, Madge burst out, "Really Gale? You too?"

~/~/~/~/~/

Peeta Mellark alighted from the twenty-car Capitol train, and immediately covered his eyes and squinted a bit to shield himself from the bright morning sun. The sunny cheeriness of the outdoors on this particular day certainly did not reflect Peeta's mood. His mood was in fact the total opposite at the moment.

Because Peeta had business to conduct. Capitol business. And Capitol business was never pleasant; it made for an instant mood-souring. And this particular business…was perhaps the most unpleasant of all to have to carry out.

As Peeta stepped away from the train, his second-in-command on this task, a young fellow by the name of Bemus, jumped down behind him and remarked, "Wow." His hard eyes surveyed the dilapidated, beleaguered train station. "This place is really a mess. It certainly could use some renovation work."

Peeta's eyes raked over his run-down surroundings with a wistful gaze. It wasn't often that he got the chance to spend time here anymore. His new duties with the Capitol kept him firmly placed there, with no real opportunity for distractions. "Yeah," he replied with a half-smile. He began to walk forward, with Bemus following close behind. "Home sweet home."

~/~/~/~/

A knock sounded at the front door. In his study, Cinna the stylist got up from his desk from where had been stenciling out fashion designs and crossed his house to the door. As always, he peeked through the porthole set in the metal door first. In these increasingly turbulent times, one just couldn't be too safe.

When Cinna saw that the caller was someone that he was familiar with, he opened the door rapidly and exclaimed, "You!"

Sawyer Thistlewine replied simply, "Yeah, me."

Cinna cast a furtive look around his residential block. Not a soul was in sight. "Get in, get in, quickly!" After they were both safely inside the house, Cinna hurriedly slammed the door shut.

After doing so, he turned around to face Sawyer. With arms crossed and with a mix of curiosity and annoyance, he asked, "What are you doing still doing here? After you committed the…deed, I thought you were going to hop on a train out of this city? Whatever happened to that plan?"

Sawyer had been staying with Cinna the past week, doing his surveillance work, setting the stage for the murder that had been committed the previous day. With his work complete, Sawyer's time in the Capitol was up. His presence here was not according to plan. And when plans went awry, they tended to have wide-spread consequences.

Cinna sighed inwardly. Why did he ever get involved with the rebels in the first place?

Because it's the right thing to do. Because the Capitol is the very definition of pure evil. Because it's your duty to help improve Panem in any way you can. Sometimes, a little risk is the price of freedom.

"What ever happened to that plan?" repeated Sawyer. "What happened to that plan, was, the Capitol locked down all forms of civilian transportation as a result of the murder. No trains, cars, planes, hovercrafts, hoverbikes, no nothing. I'm stuck here, unless I want to draw further attention to myself by trying to hijack a vehicle while the Capitol is under a high state of alert. Which would definitely prove to be fatal."

Cinna inhaled deeply in frustration. "Well, then, I guess we have no choice. You have to stay here and lie low until things cool down. But I'd really prefer it if the number 1 criminal to catch in all of Panem were not living under my roof for the duration of the investigation."

"C'mon, pal, loosen up," said Sawyer with a trace of mirth. "I'm sure it won't be for too long. And besides, I'm not number 1. That honor would belong to a Miss Primrose Everdeen."

Then, realizing what he had said, Sawyer fell silent. Mentioning Primrose was all-too-close to the mention of a certain someone. Her deceased sister.

Without replying, Cinna turned away and stalked away from the room.

Because Cinna was still reeling from the death of Katniss. When she had come under his care a year prior, from one look, he could tell that her cause was certainly not hopeless. He could tell that she had a real good chance to win the Hunger Games. Her image of being the radiant Fire Girl and one of the famous star-crossed lovers had only served to heighten the feeling of her seeming invincibility.

And then she had died. Not in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, but in the Seventy-Fifth. The Games that she was supposed to not be in danger from. Her supposed security from the Hunger Games didn't stop the Capitol in the end. That rule change that had brought about her death was just another form of expressing their revenge on Katniss for her action a year before. Eventually, the Capitol had gotten exactly what they wanted.

No matter how long it had taken.

Sawyer caught up with Cinna. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. I know that the mention of the last name dredges up even more painful memories for you than it does for me. I know the connection you had with her."

"And now she's gone!" Cinna burst out. "She's gone, and I never got the chance to tell her!" Cinna slumped down, his face in his hands, a fresh wave of tears threatening to come spilling out of his gold-flecked eyes.

Sawyer kneeled down next to him on the floor and laid a hand on his shoulder. "There's still Prim," Sawyer said. "You can still tell her what you never got the chance to tell Katniss."

With a visible effort, Cinna recovered. "Yes," he whispered. "There is."

Cinna stood up from the polished floor, and forced a smile. He had to move on. He had to keep going. It's what Katniss would want. "So," he said trying to put a little happiness and laughter into his voice. "You know the price of staying on my house without rent, right?"

"No," answered Sawyer. He stood up as well. Picking up on Cinna's effort to eradicate the somber mood, he replied with equal false enthusiasm. "What would that be? Am I going to like it?"

"You get to try on my latest clothes designs! Come on, this way," replied Cinna with a mischievous grin.

Throwing up his hands, Sawyer followed. "The things I have to put up with-"

~/~/~/~/

General Peeta Mellark and Commander Bemus, his second-in-command, rendezvoused with the commando strike team that had been sent ahead of Peeta in the middle of District 12's main square.

Of course, they weren't alone. People were milling about the town square. Some were purchasing items in the surrounding shops, and others were simply loafing about. But all of the citizens had at least one thing in common. They would all stop and shoot a look of utter scorn at the group of men dressed in military uniforms with the insignia of the Capitol upon it.

The military officers would pretend to not even notice the dirty looks. They also felt that the meeting had no reason to be held in a more private place either. The main square, in front of everyone, was fine with them. It's only District 12, they reasoned. The people are inferior anyway. Why bother?

But unlike his colleagues, Peeta felt utterly pained. He couldn't bear it that his fellow people who had once rooted for him and cheered him on were now regarding him as a terrible villain. It was almost like being back in the Hunger Games, and being a member of the Careers again…

And speaking of the Hunger Games, Peeta did not so much like the choice of meeting today. The town square brought back too many unpleasant memories of that fateful Reaping day. But Bemus was the one who had arranged the time and place, and so Peeta couldn't do anything to help it without looking too odd. He had survived the Hunger Games, he reasoned. He could surely get through its after-effects…

Peeta kicked off the grim proceedings by saying to the commando team, "So. Who's the team leader here?"

A man, one taller than the others and with an air of authority about him, stepped forward and replied, "Captain Walent, sir."

Peeta regarded Captain Walent with a convincing air of sternness as he tried to steel himself for what he had to do next. "Captain. From what I understand from your communiqué, you failed in the primary objective of the strike. The capture of Primrose Everdeen."

"Yessir," answered Walent with perfect military precision. "But we did manage to capture a secondary target that will have some value in locating Primrose Everdeen."

"Show me this person," Peeta said coolly.

Two members of the strike team produced an additional member. This person's hands were tied tightly together with strong rope, and the person's feet were bound as well, leaving only just enough slack to walk somewhat uncomfortably. A dark hood concealed the head of the captive.

Captain Walent swept the hood off the captive's face, revealing the mother of Primrose, Odona. "Peeta, you piece of-"

With detached icyness in his voice, Peeta said, "Gag her."

The men complied with his order, covering her mouth with duct tape and pulling the hood back over her head. Now all that could be heard was muffled murmurs. In addition, nobody else in the square had noticed the identity of the captive. The unmasking had occured much too quickly.

Captain Walent looked at Peeta pleadingly. His expression was similar to one of a small child seeking approval from its parents, but knowing that it won't come. "You see, we can use her as a hostage. As bait. We can flush out the younger Everdeen with her mother!"

"Perhaps so, Captain," answered Peeta. To hear him now, he sounded nothing like the timid, kind bread-baker that he had once been. That was a different Peeta. In contrast to the baking fires he had once dealt with, Peeta was now as cold as ice. "But the fact remains is that you failed in your primary objective. We do not tolerate failure in this army, Captain. Especially a failure with these catastrophic consequences. As a Captain, you certainly know the price of failure, do you not?"

"I do," said Captain Walent. His expression was now one of a man resigned to his fate. He had done his best. He would live with the consequences.

"Good," replied Peeta. The coming act had to be done. It was standard procedure in the Capitol's military. If he didn't do it, he would put himself under heavy suspicion. The whole farce was all in her honor, after all. He had to play his part sincerly. So with deep sadness and regret in his heart, Peeta took something out of his belt holster, handling it with the utmost care.

And in front of all the District 12 passerby, Peeta pointed his Alti 26 pistol at the Captain and shot him cleanly in the forehead.

So maybe Captain Walent wouldn't live with the consequences.

~/~/~/~/~/

"We're here," announced Madge.

She stopped the motor of the hoverbike, and jumped down from her seat. However, the other three remained seated on the bike. Madge looked at them in puzzlement.

Haymitch pointed out, "Hey, sweetheart, if District 13 is in the middle of the forest, I think your pops was pullin' your leg on about there being people there."

"No," answered Madge in an annoyed tone. "My father told me that we had to approach the last few yards or so on foot. He said that approaching on a vehicle without permission would only be taken as a threat, and that if we did so, we would be regarded as a threat. Trust me; you do not want to be regarded as a threat."

So following Madge's instructions, the other three exited the hoverbike as well.

In the middle of the forest, Madge pointed to a sort of weathered dirt path snaking through the trees. "See that? That's the way in."

"How do you know?" questioned Gale.

"Because my father told me," said Madge. Man, that sounds lame.

Madge continued, "We'll walk in a single-file line, following this path. Prim, you're first. I'll be second to show you the way."

"Why am I first?" asked Prim in resistance.

"So they recognize you and don't kill us on sight," replied Madge with a hint of impatience.

Disregarding for the most part the second half of that ominous statement, Prim kept on pushing Madge's temper. "How do you know they'll recognize me?"

"Sweetheart, get used to it. Your pretty little face with the blond hair and blue eyes is the most widely-known face in all of Panem right now. There must be wanted posters in every single District by now," said Haymitch honestly.

Madge nodded. "And trust me; these people will know who you are. After all, you represent their last hope."

Prim closed her eyes and collected herself. When she opened her eyes after a minute, she said with determination, "Alright. Let's move out."

Gale flicked away a particularly grotesque spider that had been crawling on his arm. "About time."

And so with the pre-determined order, the party began to walk upon the old path set in the middle of the woods.

~/~/~/~/

The group had been walking on the path for barely two minutes when a man seemingly appeared out of thin air directly in front of them. That was the good part. The bad part was that the man was training a stock rifle on the four of them.

The man yelled hostilely, "Who are you people? Tell me how you found this place, and your deaths will be quick. If you don't tell, your deaths will be long and painful…"

Madge was too scared to even say 'I told you so'. But she didn't lose her head entirely. "This is Primrose Everdeen!" she screamed, pointing to Prim. "You really want to kill her?"

The man slightly lowered his rifle in disbelief. Prim squirmed in discomfort as the man's eyes raked over her form. "Well, I'll be. It really is her! Come, this way, with haste, with haste." And stowing away his gun, the man turned around quickly to follow the path, with the other four close on his heels.

Prim whispered to Madge, "Are you sure this is safe? Should we get out of here? He could have blown our heads off!"

Madge whispered back, "How do you think they've stayed undetected for so long? They have to be cautious. If they get careless, they will be killed."

Prim was silent for a moment. She's right.

But Prim was also nervous. She was now one step closer to fulfilling her sister's last wish. She had found the core of the uprising. Now, she had to follow through. There was no turning back now.

And then before long, the path ended in a gigantic clearing, still in the middle of the woods. Prim gasped when she saw what lay ahead.

Because in front of her, was civilization.

It was wondrous. It was simple. It was beautiful.

In front of her eyes were a series of simple dwellings. Houses made from a mixture of wood, vines, and leaves. Fire rings scattered around the houses. Plots of land where crops were blooming. A steady river filled with flowing water in the middle of it all. While it was nothing advanced, it was more than anyone could have hoped for.

The newcomers were speechless. They stopped short in surprise. Nothing could have prepared them for this moment. Never did they imagine that there would actually be human beings eking out a living in the woods. And while it was very primitive, it was quite attractive at the same time.

And the clearing wasn't barren of people. It was teeming with life. Children laughing, adults conversing with each other, farmers tending the crops, others were collecting water from the river. This wasn't just an abandoned outpost in the middle of the forest. It was a full-fledged village.

As the villagers became aware of the newcomers, they began to murmur amongst themselves excitedly and point. The four stood there, awkwardly, feeling like caged animals on display.

But one of the villagers, a lean, middle-aged man with graying hair quickly stepped up to them. His eyes alighting on Prim, he exclaimed "Ah! The sister of Katniss! The savior of the rebellion!"

Feeling a bit like she was being overestimated and a little too exalted, Prim replied humbly, "Yeah, that's me, I suppose."

The man continued, "My name is Ritchell. I'm the head of District 13; I suppose you could call me the mayor. I know who you are, Primrose, but would you other three be so kind as to introduce yourselves?"

"Hold on," interrupted Gale. "You can't expect us to just walk into the long-lost District 13 and just go with the flow. I don't know about these three, but I'm practically bursting with questions. Can we go somewhere more private, so you can fill us in on the whole story of how you guys came to be here?"

"As you wish," replied Ritchell.

~/~/~/~/~/

Once the five of them were seated comfortably in Ritchell's modest dwelling, Ritchell began by saying, "I apologize for the way Hran greeted you as you entered the District. Don't let his demeanor fool you; we do welcome outlaws from the Capitol. He just gets a little carried away sometimes."

"It's fine," said Prim shortly. The reason for the brusque response was because she was being very observant and taking in her surroundings.

The inside of Ritchell's house reflected the flavor of the outside community. The furniture was made from wood and nature, and covered with the sleek fur of animals. Tables were made out of hard wood as well. Peering into another room, she could see a moderately-sized bed of soft animal hair based on rocks. A bedcover of lamb wool lay on top of the bed.

"Now, I understand that you all may be feeling utterly overwhelmed or be in deep shock. That's what everyone else felt when they first arrived here. But, we're a friendly group of people here, kind and welcoming, and we'll do everything we can to make your assimilation as easy as possible," said Ritchell kindly.

"Greeting us with open rifles is not my definition of welcoming," muttered Haymitch.

Throwing Haymitch a look, Prim said to Ritchell, "Thank you very much. But as I think you can understand, we're dying to know how you came to be here. Can you tell us that?"

Gale had winced when Prim said 'dying'.

"Surely," said Ritchell readily.

"Now as you know, District 13 was destroyed seventy-five years ago by the Capitol because of the major rebellion. It was obliterated to send a message to the rest of Panem; that resistance to them was futile. Punishment would be swift. You know this."

"But what only a small minority in all of Panem knows is, a quarter of a century ago, a man by the name of Aden Skirata, a resident of District 12, decided to revive District 13. So, he traveled to the site where we are right now to find all remnants of the radioactive bombs to finally be dissimilated. The trees and plants were beginning to flourish again. Life was again returning to this site after fifty years."

"So Aden Skirata recruited trustworthy followers, who like him, detested the Capitol. Aden's dream was to remake the remains of District 13 into a safe haven where fugitives from the Capitol would be accepted. He wanted people who did not wish to suffer under the tyranny of the Capitol to be able to go to a place where they could live more freely. And twenty-five years later, you can see that his dream succeeded. District 13 is now reborn."

"So where's this Aden Skirata now?" asked Gale.

Ritchell's face clouded with sadness. "Father passed away four years ago. As his son, I took over as head of District 13."

"Excuse me for not believing this whole story, but I find it extremely hard to believe that the Capitol hasn't located this little village you've got here for twenty-five long years," said Haymitch with his usual tact.

"It's hard sometimes, that's for sure," answered Ritchell. "You have to understand some things. We can't have products such as televisions or computers, because the Capitol could pick up those devices on electronic scanners. The overhead forest canopy forms a natural barrier from the air; no Capitol jets can spot us from above. And keeping with its customary arrogance, the Capitol doesn't bother to send patrols out here to check on the remains of District 13. It thinks the job is done, and that's that."

"But what about the pictures of District 13 that are sometimes shown on the general television in order to keep the Districts in line?" asked Prim in confusion. She had certainly seen enough of those.

Ritchell laughed. "They use the same picture every time; it is just edited a little bit each instance it's shown."

"If this place is such a secret…how do people know to come here to escape the law?" This from Gale.

Ritchell answered, "We've got a network of spies and contacts all over Panem; a few people in each District. If they get wind of someone having a dislike towards the Capitol, and that if someone expresses a genuine wish to be residing somewhere else, our people make the necessary arrangements to bring them here. They have to be deemed trustworthy, of course. Not any old person is allowed to live here.

"Also, when someone is convicted of a crime in the Districts, one of our people approaches them if the convict is evaluated to be a worthy candidate. If the convict agrees to leave, they are transported quietly here. If they disagree…well…they're being executed anyway…so our secret stays safe."

Prim winced. A true, but harsh reality.

"Go back to the 'transported quietly here' part," said Haymitch. "From what I've seen, you don't have any means of transportation here."

"But we do," replied Ritchell. "Not much, but we have about ten hovercrafts and hoverbikes. Supplies are also imported from each District, such as fuel and weapons to serve our purposes. Our workers in the Districts never steal too much to be noticed; only a little at a time. We can't afford to draw the Capitol's attention upon ourselves."

Which is something very similar to what that fox-faced girl back in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games did, noted Prim in her subconscious.

"So how many people live here?" asked Madge curiously.

"Around a hundred or so. Most of the children you see are adopted by the adults here; almost nobody here is related to each other. In fact, it's time for you to meet my own adopted son. Asher, come here!"

A boy just about Prim's age revealed himself from an adjoining room. He had dark brown skin and eyes, with a facial expression that had seen too much to be the countenance of a normal child. He said somewhat timidly, "Hello. I'm Asher."

"What District are you from?" asked Gale kindly.

"District 11," replied Asher earnestly. "I was caught stealing food for my family. Since my sister died, it had been especially hard to get by, so I had no choice but to try and take some from others. But before I was to be…punished, a nice man came to me and offered me the chance to escape. I jumped on it, and so here I am."

"You know, I lost a sister too," said Prim. Then she immediately regretted saying it. Why was she revealing that personal fact about herself to this stranger? And such a painful one, too. She then realized, Asher must have already known. In fact, all of Panem knew about Katniss. She just had to accept that fact. "What was your sister's name?

"She was a competitor in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. Her name was Rue. I'm her younger twin," Asher said.

~/~/~/~/

As Prim tried to get some sleep that night, she realized it was not going to happen. Too much had taken place that day for her to simply drop off into slumber. She had too many revelations to reflect on.

Number one, discovering the existence of District 13. Granted, it was a much regressed society, but still, it was something. Even so, at times she still thought it all just one big hallucination. That it wasn't real. But the rational part of her only hoped that this community filled with resistors was enough to help her motivate the rest of Panem to overthrow the Capitol.

Another surprising revelation she had learned about today was Asher. Prim remembered Katniss telling her about Rue. About how Rue had reminded her of Prim, about how Rue had many younger siblings, about how saddened Katniss was at her death. Well, it seemed that fate had thrown Asher and Prim, two younger survivors of two older sisters, together for better or worse.

And some part of Prim couldn't help but think that Asher was pretty cute.

Stop that, Prim silently admonished herself. You have a duty to fulfill. You have no time for distractions.

But that still didn't stop Prim from blocking Asher out of her mind.

~/~/~/~/

Around Ritchell's cramped breakfast table the next morning, the six of them were enjoying a delicious meal of wild berries and delicious venison.

"So that's how you get food around here? You gather, fish, and hunt?" asked Gale. He could certainly relate to that. He could remember the precious time and effort required to piece together a collection of something that resembled a meal.

Ritchell nodded. "Yes, that's correct. We also get various imports of food along with the other supplies, but yes, mostly, that's how we collect our food."

Haymitch stopped eating for a second. "Hold on. I've been thinking, and I've realized, this whole thing is hopeless. The rebellion failed last time, seventy-five years ago. You know why? Because the Districts were inferior to the Capitol. While very few citizens in the wealthier Districts today are equipped with modern weapons, most people in Panem only own weapons such as knives or bows and arrows. If they own weapons at all. Do you seriously think you're going to succeed this time around? Please tell me I'm not seeing the whole picture, right?"

Gale shot Haymitch a dirty look. He'd been acting more grumpy and more of a mean cuss than usual lately. And Gale wondered, why?

But Ritchell replied to Haymitch, "No. You're absolutely right, there's more to the picture that you haven't yet seen. Trust me, help is on the way as we speak."

"And just where is this help coming from?" asked Haymitch sarcastically. His tone made it clear that he wasn't buying a word of what Ritchell was saying.

Ritchell answered, "From outside the country of Panem. From the nation of Zenal."

Please, please, review! They totally make my day and keep me motivated to write!

Anyone notice that Asher and Sawyer are names of plants/flowers? You know, keeping with the whole tradition: Katniss, Primrose, Rue, Clove...