Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games plot, but President Phoenix belongs to me and any tributes belong to the representative writer.

A/N: The character submission is still open, so PLEASE do PM me if you're interested, I have to of spaces to fill

*Should you be unhappy about any way in which your character has been portrayed, or something that they do, then PM me in our chat thread and hopefully I'll be able to sort it out

Chapter 04

Zea Granger of district nine scratched her arm as she sat on a fallen log in her favourite field. Here, it was calm and peaceful - the wind blowing through the tall grass was so mesmerising to watch that she would have moments where she would forget why she was there. It had turned into a ritual to escape her parent's arguing.

Tomorrow was the reaping day and Zea was her usual pessimistic self. There was always a sense of dread in her family in he run-up to the Games as she was the youngest of all her cousin and having no siblings meant that she had to go the reaping alone. For her first and second reaping, she was standing alongside her cousins. After then, she was on her own.

At least the end is in sight. Only two more years in the reaping after tomorrow.

A string of birds flew overhead into the pink sunset that made Zea wonder what it might be like to be free with no ties to the Hunger Games and no reapings.

Zea glanced over her shoulder, looking at the small settlement where she lived. She had known no other home. One home district was all that everyone knew in Panem, unless they were rich or lucky enough to move to the Capitol. Or were reaped.

As she walked slowly along the top of the field, there was a faint hissing symphonies of the crickets and cicadas hiding the the trees nearby. There was an abundance of upturned steel baths drying outside the houses. This year marked a spike in twelve year olds entering into the reaping bowl, so parents had chosen to up the stakes in any way they could. Washing and preening seemed to be high up on their hypothetical lists.

"Hello there Zea," the elderly lady of the town called out softly from her porch. "Been out to the fields again, have you?"

This lady was known as Sable. Her skin was an olive tone from working outside and her eyes were of a grey tiny that gave her the most piercing gaze ever. Whilst she may not have married or had any children, she cared for each and every one of the young teens that resided in their small town in district eight. It had been known that on occasion, she would give a flower to each of them as they walked towards the reaping stage.

Zea was slightly taken aback that Sable knew about her disappearances to the Fields and avoided the piercing gaze as she nodded quickly.

"I thought so..." Sable murmured before adding, "Thought I heard those parents of yours arguing. Why don't you come sit down with old Sable?"

"Yes Ma'am," replied Zea, taking a seat on the porch beside Sable's rocking chair. She hugged her knees, resting her chin over them.

"Now you certainly seem nervous. How about a swig of my secret tipperoo?"

Zea shook her head violently. "Oh no, I'm okay. I've seen what your homemade brew does to the eighteen year olds who surviving their seven years in the reaping bowl."

"What can I say?" Sable looked up at the pink sky over the roofs of the houses opposite. "You have nothing to worry about Zea."

"I know..." Zea mumbled, trying to sound confident. "Well I should probably get home before my parents send for the Warden and his Peacekeepers. They would probably say they think I've run off in protest of the games."

"Oh you have quite the imagination there. I thought about doing that in my time too," Sable sighed, pulling at the loosely crocheted blanket draped across her frail knees. "Run along now and get a good night's rest."

Zea waved goodbye and raced for home. Having been banned from going out in the evenings in favour of studying, Zea knew she would have to sneak in through her open bedroom window. There was still the hubbub of a now dying argument between her parents.

There was a small shed hatched up close to the house that provided the perfect middle ground to get up to the second floor.

Zea used a bucket and then a large water tank to get up onto the roof of the shed, planting her feet on perhaps the only two points strong to support her.

Then came the tricky part. Boosting herself up to her window. Zea had bent her knees in preparation to jump and hadn't realised that the arguing inside had stopped when she heard a stern voice call out to her.

"You do know the front door works just as well as the window." Zea's father, Demetrius Granger, stood tall and firm beside the shed. His arms were crossed tightly, emphasising his disappointment. "I thought your mother and I made it quite clear that you are not to go out after dark."

Zea jumped down from the shed, barging past her father, saying, "Yeah- well I could be dead in a few weeks so I thought I would break a few rules and enjoy life here for one more night. At least give me that privilege this time."

She ignored what he said next, because as she opened the front door, her mother, Ceres, was sat at the bottom of the stairs. Ceres let out a wail, "Zea! Where were you? We nearly told the warden you had run off!" Her dark eyes bore into Zea. "Why did you run off?"

It felt like there was no escape from her parents at this point, so the young sixteen year old endured their lecture with a stern expression to show that she would not be affected by it. Zea was mentally stronger than they allowed her to be. Once she felt like her parents had rambled enough, she slapped her knees before getting up. A sure sign that she was walking away.

"Right... I'm going to go to bed now, because I have a pretty big day ahead of me tomorrow." Zea brushed her hair over her shoulder before hurrying up the stairs and into her room.

It took a fair bit of strength to stop her from screaming in irritation. Instead, she compensated by throwing one of her tatty second hand textbooks out of the open window. The dull sound of it hitting the ground outside was almost satisfying.

As she set about doing her nighttime ritual - starting off with washing her face in the ceramic bowl in the corner of her room, Zea caught a glimpse of the door opening and Ceres stepped timidly into the youngster's room.

"I'm really not in the mood, Mum," Zea sighed, hastily scrubbing her face and neck to get rid of any dirt or oil. "Tomorrow's a big day and I need to look my best in case I have to represent district eight."

Ceres threw herself onto the floor, hugging her daughter's legs as she cried. "Please don't talk like that, Zea. No mother wants her baby to fight in the games - no one more than me..."

Zea shook her legs to ease her mum off, water dripping from her face. "Please Mum, don't do this to me. I need to get a good night's sleep now."

Demetrius appeared in the doorway and barked at his wife to leave their daughter alone.

With her head hung down, Ceres dragged herself up from the floor and followed her husband out.

Zea leant back against the wall, drying her face with a small rag and pulled her skin loosely.

What the hell am I doing?... maybe I should have run away.

Thoughts from AspiringWriterGirl = Woah, it has certainly has been a while now – but I have spaces left for new tributes PM me!