A/N: Thank you so so so so so much for the reviews! I went to eat dinner, and when I came back – TAH-DAH! THREE REVIEWS! I was so excited, I went and wrote Chapter 2. This is thanks to you people! Thank you so much!

This is Rose's POV again, but she's a little younger, and so is Fin (he's the youngest according to Mockingjay.) I had this idea in my head for a little while. You figure, at a very young age, Rose and Fin don't realize the depths of the horror created by the Hunger Games. They don't realize, so they do shortsighted things…

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May the odds be ever in your favor!

…

I duck really fast as Fin swings the stick at my head with all his toddler might. "Hey!" I shout. He'd better watch it, or I'll tattletale on him. "That's not fair!"

Fin giggles. A playful smile lights up his face. "Why not?"

"My teachers said there were no weapons in the Hunger Games unless you got them at the beginning!" I say.

Fin spins the stick in his hand. "Uh…" He scratches his head, pushing a stray curl of blond hair out of his face. "Then I did that!" he says, and jumps at me again.

"I want a sword, too!" I yell.

Fin ignores me. He's too busy laughing, swinging the stick around like a crazy person. I try to climb up a tree, but he grabs me by the shoe and yanks me back down. I land on my butt in the dirt – hard. "Ow!"

Fin laughs. "Fight!" he teases. "Fight!"

"Stop it!" I say again, but he's already swinging the stick at my head. I roll out of the way, scrambling back to my feet. He struggles to catch up to me on his little, chubby legs. I'm so much bigger than him – why does he have to be so annoying?

"Fin, I said stop it!"

Fin raises the lame stick like it's the biggest sword in the world. "I am the District 12… uh… tribute!" he cheers. "I will destroy all the whiny girls!" He sticks his tongue out at me, making a stupid noise. I'm going to kill him.

"That's it!" I snap a branch off the nearest tree. "You are soooo on!"

Fin laughs again. "Go for it, sissie!"

I jump at him, and suddenly, we're having a real fight. Like real tributes. Like the real Hunger Games! Our sticks swing and hit and swing and miss and swing, and I end up backing away, panting, with sweat in my eyes. I sigh. "You're ruining my hair, Fin!"

"You fight like a girl," he laughs, clutching his chest. He's probably in danger of doubling over, he's giggling so hard. Or maybe he'll just explode.

"Cut it out, Fin."

He crosses his tiny arms. "No."

"You'd better cut it out. Or I'll tell Daddy you're being mean."

Fin shakes his head. "Fight me!" he says again – seriously, can't he say something else, anything else? – and he runs at me with the stick raised over his head.

He brings it down on my arm.

"Ouch!" I scream. That really hurt! I crash to the ground, clutching my arm. It's already turning red. "Fin, what is your problem?"

Fin sticks his tongue out at me again.

"That's it," I snap. "I'm telling Daddy."

"No!" Fin whines. "Don't! Don't, Rose, don't!"

"DADDY!" I shout as loud as I can. "DAAAAAAAADDDDDDDYYYYYYY!"

Peeta comes running through the woods, jumping over tree roots, clawing through the bushes. He's so fast! In seconds, he's standing over Fin with his arms crossed. His face is stern, but his voice is still kinder than I would have liked when he looks at my brother. "What did you do now, buddy?"

"Nothing," Fin mumbles.

"He hit me with a stick!" I say.

Fin's already trying to hide the evidence. He's shoving the stick in a bush. Wow, he's stupid…

"Is that stick yours, Fin?" Daddy asks.

Fin hangs his head. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. He swings his arms in silly circles.

"Tell me the truth," Daddy says.

There's a beat of silence.

Fin groans. "It's mine."

I grin. "I told you so, Daddy!"

Daddy looks at me. "Did you start this fight, Rose?" he says.

I shake my head 'no.' "I just wanted to play," I tell him. "Fin won't play fair!"

"And what were you playing?" Daddy asks.

I smile and burst out, "Hunger Games!"

Daddy's smile vanishes. The light goes out of his eyes. Suddenly, he's made of stone.

"It was fun," I say. "Until Fin cheated." I point an accusing finger at the maniac in question. "I told him, no swords!"

Daddy's not listening to me. He looks like he's somewhere else, his eyes all distant. He wrings his hands together – crack, crack – I hear the bones snap together. His voice sounds about a thousand years older when he speaks. I've never heard him sound so serious – or so sad, or so angry.

"Don't ever play that game again."

Fin looks really sad, his lip out in that stupid pouty-face. He's going to cry, I know it. "Whyyyy?"

There's a rustle of bushes and a snap of stray twigs. I whip around, scared by the noise. It' s Mommy. She must have heard everything. She looks like she might turn and run away from the woods and never come back. Her eyes are wide as saucers.

"Peeta," she says. "They couldn't have known…"

Daddy throws Fin's sword at a tree. It snaps in half when it hits the trunk.

"My sword!" Fin yells, and know he's really crying – big, wet tears streaking his red cheeks. "Daddy, no! Whyyyy?"

Dad's voice is hard as rock. "Because we don't talk about the Hunger Games."