A/N- Hi everyone! So sorry for the late update, but I've not been very well lately :( I spent a solid 48 hours in bed unable to do anything but complain and be sick, so I haven't been able to write a lot. However, I am all better now and I have finished the District Nine Reapings, so please enjoy them! These two tributes were submitted by hp0123 and katsparkle13!

Wen Taleigh (15), District 9 Male POV

I twirl the piece of grain in my hand, watching it weave in between my long fingers like the wicker of a basket, neat and tightly held by the strength of my hands that time working in the fields has built up. The bleak morning sun shines down, basking the field below in a pale yellow light that I love to close my eyes and lie in. It's the simple things in life that I really appreciate, like the rising and setting of the sun, or little smiles on the faces of people I pass by. I'm quite an adventurous sort of person, but sometimes nothing beats just sitting and relaxing in the middle of a field.

"Don't you get sick of the sight of grain?" My friend, Jarron, sighs, plucking the seeds from a piece of grain. "We work in the fields pretty much every day, yet you still insist on coming here on our day off? Do you have some sort of fetish for grain or something, Wen?"

I laugh, tilting my head backwards. "Nah, I just like it out here. It's peaceful, you know."

Jarron shakes his head at me. "You're a strange guy, Wen. One day you're mucking about in the fields and getting chased by those crazy old farmers, then another day you're lying in a field blabbering on about peace! It's weird, seriously."

"You're weird," I prod him in the shoulder, "seriously."

"Oh shut it, you freckly freak!" Jarron laughs, pushing me in the shoulder with such a surging force that I'm knocked off my elbows and I land with a thud on my back, winded. It takes me a few seconds to catch a breath before I can get back up again.

"Boys are the weird ones." Our friend Evelyn says, looking up from her long nails. Her dark eyes squint through the strands of hair that fall over her face as she spots something in the distance. "Oh, is that your sister, Wen?"

I follow her extended finger and see a small girl walking down the path between the rows of growing grain. The girl skips along happily, her plaited hair bouncing lightly on her shoulders and a basket is held tightly in her hands. As she approaches, I can see her smiling face, a smile so wide that it almost reaches her ears, and I hold out my arms for her to embrace me. Upon seeing my open arms, she picks up her speed and comes sprinting towards me, before tossing her basket aside and flinging her small body into mine.

Holding her close, I give her a tight squeeze and she giggles over my shoulder. I tap my fingers lightly on her back, drumming out a little tune.

"How is the best sister in the world?" I ask, removing her arms from around my neck.

"Great!" Ella replies happily. "How is the best brother in the whole worrrrrld?"

"I'm doing good, thank you." I say. "What's in the basket, Ella?"

Retrieving her basket from the floor, Ella holds it out for me to look inside. I peer down at its contents and see a bunch of pale blue flowers at the bottom, their petals resting delicately against the wicker of the basket.

"Did you pick these?" I ask my sister, plucking out a single flower and examining it in the morning light.

Ella nods proudly. "They're from my garden."

"They are beautiful." I tell her fondly. "But not as beautiful as you."

Her cheeks flush a timid pink and she bends towards me, planting a soft, seven year old kiss on my cheek. "Oh, Mommy told me to tell you good luck from her and Daddy."

"Ok, tell them I'll see them later." I say, placing the flower back into the basket. "Are you ok to walk back home, or do you need me to come with you?"

Ella points to the path that she came down. "I'm a big girl, I can walk by myself."

"Ok then, big girl." I say, smiling. "Can I have a hug before you go?"

Nodding, Ella wraps her short arms around my neck and gives me a long hug. Then, once we've parted, I wave her off as she skips down the path, her little basket swinging in her hand. Normally, I wouldn't let Ella walk by herself, but our house backs onto this field so it only takes about a minute to get from here to there; and I can see her the entire way down, so I know she's safe.

"You're sister is so adorable, Wen!" Evelyn exclaims, holding a hand to her chest. "I wish my sister was like that."

"I don't." Jarron says, smirking. "Your sister is hot."

"As if she'd be interested in you, Jarron." Evelyn rolls her eyes at him. "You are definitely not her type."

"He's not anyone's type." I add, earning myself another shove from Jarron, but this time I'm prepared for it, so I simply swerve my shoulders out of the way when his large hands comes barrelling towards me. Jarron curses, having missed me.

"What time is it?" I ask. "Anyone know?"

Evelyn looks to her thin wrist where she wears a small gold watch. "About an hour until the Reaping." She sighs. "Ugh, I really hate the Hunger Games. I don't see the point in sending twenty four kids into an arena and letting all-but-one die. How is that meant to control the Districts?"

"Would you go and tell that to a Peacekeeper?" I ask her. "You could even ask the President what the point is of the Games, if you wanted to."

Evelyn shakes her head. "That's ridiculous! I'd only do that if I had a death wish- which I do not have."

"So you wouldn't question it to the Capitol?"

"No way! I'd rather live, thanks."

"Then you are being controlled." I say simply. "We are all being controlled. The Games are just a tool used to control. And no matter how hard we try to escape them, whether or not we are reaped or know someone who is, we are all being controlled."

Evelyn stares at me, her jaw hanging slightly. The air stays silent for a few moments before Jarron breaks the peace.

"As I said before, you're a strange guy, Wen."

Clio Aster (15), District 9 Female POV

"Clio, wake up." Something shakes my shoulder. "Clio, you're lying on my dress."

I stare upwards, expecting to see my sister's face staring down at me, but a sheet of black covers my sight, preventing me from seeing anything but darkness. I can feel my sister shaking my shoulder again, whispering down my ear, telling me to wake up. But I am awake. I'm awake, but I just can't move right now.

"Clio, open your eyes." Phoebe says, coaxing me out of my blank state. "Come on, you can do it."

My eyelids flicker open.

"Clio, are you ok?" The face of my nine year old sister blurs into view. Her chocolate brown hair curls around her small face and her warm, gentle eyes are filled with concern.

"How...how long have I been out?" I ask wearily, my throat feels incredibly dry and croaky as I speak.

Phoebe frowns. "Um, maybe about ten minutes? You were helping me with my dress when it happened. I went to find Mother, but she was washing Zinnia's hair, so she told me to sit with you until you woke up."

"Thanks." I mumble, shuffling onto my elbows. As my head lifts from the ground I feel a strain on my neck from the heavy weight of my skull. "Sorry, Phoebe."

Phoebe shrugs. "It's ok, I'm used to it now. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, fine." I lie. "So, shall we continue getting you ready?"

"You're sitting on my dress, Clio." Phoebe says, pointing to the floor beneath me.

"Oh, sorry." I quickly pull the dress out from under my legs and straighten it out where creases have gathered in the skirt of the dress. "Here, all better."

Phoebe takes the dress and slides it on over her head, her curled hair popping out from the neck of the dress first. I take her hand and gently pull her arm through the sleeve, then do the same with the other one. The dress is a plain straight skirt with a patterned bodice in a gorgeous turquoise shade. Years ago, it used to be my dress, but I have long grown out of it so it belongs to Phoebe now. No doubt that when she has grown out of it too, it will be passed down to our other sister, Zinnia, who is the youngest sibling at seven years old. Despite being too young to be Reaped, Phoebe and Zinnia still come to the Reaping with our parents, so that's why they are dressing well today. As for my outfit, I'll be wearing the same pale yellow blouse I always wear for the Reaping, as well as a lovely white skirt my Mother bought for me last week especially for today.

"You look beautiful." I say, tying the ribbon at the back of Phoebe's dress. "Better than I did when that dress was mine."

"Thanks, Clio."

Just as I finish tying the ribbon, the door opens and our Mother walks in, a look of concern etched onto her face.

"Clio, could I speak to you for a moment?" She asks.

"Sure." I say, already knowing what she will say. It will be about my black-out, I'm sure of it.

Leaving the room, I stand in the hallway where Mother is waiting for me. Still feeling a little tired from the black-out, I lean back against the wall to relieve some of the weight on my legs.

"Phoebe said you had another seizure." Mother says quietly. "How long did it last?"

"Ten minutes." I answer, going by what my sister told me. I can never guess myself; sometimes I feel as if I've been out for hours when it's only been a few minutes, whereas other times I think only a minute or two has passed, but instead I have been out for three hours. Time is something not easily accounted for in my life.

Mother sighs. "Is this the fourth one this week?"

"Fifth..." I mumble, biting my lower lip. "But they've only been small ones." I quickly add, trying to better the situation. "It's nothing to worry about, really."

Mother frowns, her dark eyebrows pulled together, creating creases in the skin on her forehead. "Maybe I should speak to the Mayor about having you placed near the outside of the crowd during the Reaping today. You know, in case you feel like you're going to have another seizure. The stress of the Reaping may prompt another one."

"No!" I say immediately, then instantly regret it when I see the surprise on Mother's face. I don't usually snap like this, so I must have shocked her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that... I just don't want to draw any attention to myself. I'll be fine, I promise."

"Are you sure?" She asks. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem.."

I nod my head. "I'm sure, I'll be fine. I won't pass out again, don't worry."

But despite the agreeing nod my Mother gives me, I know she is still worried. But not just about the seizures; she's worried about me being reaped for the Hunger Games.

Our house is quite far away from where the Reaping is held, so by the time we reach the main square my feet are aching in my sandals; I'll probably have a blister somewhere, yuck.

"Clio is going to sign in now and stand with the other older girls." I hear Mother explaining to Zinnia and Phoebe. "You two will wait with me and Father until it's over, ok?"

I walk over to them and bend down to reach Zinnia's height. I'm already quite small myself, standing just above five feet, so I don't have to crouch down too low. My cat, Willy, whom I've had since I was twelve, squirms in my arms as I hold him out to my younger sister.

"Will you look after Willy for me, Zinnia?"

Zinnia nods, her face lighting up as she opens her arms to take the cat. "Oh, I love holding Willy, he's so soft! Thank you, Clio!"

"Just keep him safe for me." I tell her, ruffling the scruff of my cat's neck. "I'll see you in a bit, ok?"

Saying my goodbyes to Phoebe and my parents, I start to make my way over to the signing in area. A large queue stretches out from the desks and I join the back of it, twiddling my thumbs together. Both in front and behind me, I can hear girls and boys chatting to each other at high speeds. Most of them sound incredibly nervous, pouring their anxieties out to one another as they wait for their fingers to be pricked. Others are comforting their weeping friends, filling them with words of ease and assurance. I catch a few of their words; a boy behind me is telling his sister that she only has a one-in-so many thousand chance of being reaped. I'm completely bemused as to how he worked it out; there aren't thousands of kids in the District, but most of them have their names in the bowl several times, so how did he work it all out? It's foreign to me, maths is. So are most school subjects. I don't go to school and I can't even remember the last time I attended a lesson, so I guess that's why all this academic nonsense is like a different language.

As the queue gets shorter and shorter, the chattering dies down to low whispers. The anxiety and nerves are starting to come out in everyone now; even I'm starting to feel my palms sweating and my heart rate increasing.

Eventually it's my turn to be signed in and I hold out my finger. My hand is grasped roughly by a woman who plunges a pen-like object towards my fingertip and a sharp sting punctures through my skin. My finger is pressed onto a pad where my name appears on the screen above and then I'm dismissed, the next person's turn arriving.

I walk slowly to my designated area and stand alone, melting into the rows of nervous faces. A girl near to me is crying into her friend's shoulder and I for a moment I feel the urge to go to her and see if she's all right, but then I think better and decide to stay out of it. Because of my illness, I have isolated myself from others since I was four, when the seizures started. So now that the illness is getting worse, I know that keeping my distance is even more vital now. The last thing I want is to have more sympathetic looks and more people worrying about me. It's enough to have my family's worries on my conscience.

Throughout the Reaping, I stay silent, keeping myself tightly away from brushing anyone's shoulders. But then the time comes when the girl is reaped and I hold my breath as the escort dips her hand into the bowl of paper. And plucks a slip out.

"Clio Aster!"

I gasp, my eyes widening in shock. I clutch my stomach, my insides tightening as if I've suffered a blow to the torso. Girls around me, who don't know who I am, notice my reaction and realise that I'm Clio Aster, the girl who has just been chosen to enter an arena to fight to the death. I glance around at their faces; a mix between looks of sympathy and looks of relief.

Drawing in a deep breath, I step out of the row and begin making my way down the centre of the crowd where the girls and boys are parted. I stare at my feet as I walk, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. When I reach the stage, I climb the stairs carefully and step towards the middle of the stage.

As the escort walks over to the second bowl, ready to choose my district partner, I stare ahead. I need to be brave, so even as stars begin to cloud my vision, I block them out and concentrate on keeping myself conscious. Because in this game, there is no time for black-outs. For me, one seizure could mean the difference between life and death.

Wen Taleigh (15), District 9 Male POV

I walk down to the Reaping with Jarron and Evelyn; my parents don't usually attend the Reaping because they like to keep Ella oblivious to the Hunger Games. I agree with them, seven is far too young to know about the horrors of the Games. If it were up to me, I'd want her never to find out about them. But I know that one day she will have to learn, because one day she'll be old enough to be reaped for them, just as I am.

Waiting in the queue to sign in, Evelyn waves one of our other close friends, Mick, to stand with us. He approaches with his hands stuffed into his pockets, a sheepish look on his face.

"You ok, Mick?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Just nervous for the Reaping, you know."

I nod. "Oh."

"Cheer up, you'll be fine." Jarron says, nudging Mick with his elbow sharply. "I'm sure Wen would volunteer for you if you got reaped."

My head snaps towards my friend, my eyes wide. "What made you say that?"

Jarron laughs. "I dunno, it's probably something you'd do, haha."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, confused with Jarron's words. I've never said anything about volunteering for the Hunger Games, I hate them!

Jarron shrugs. "Just that you can be a bit reckless sometimes."

I frown at him, but have no chance to reply as it's my turn to sign in. I hold out my finger, wait for the sharp sting, print my blood and then go to stand in my designated area. Such a simple routine for the most un-simple game ever invented.

Jarron and Mick are also fifteen like I am, so we all stand together. Evelyn stands across the parting with the other girls, her eyes firmly set on the stage ahead. Evelyn doesn't like to admit that she's nervous for the Reaping, but I can always tell that she is; it's the cold eyes and clenched fists that give it away. Mick on the other hand is pretty obvious and quite open about his nerves. His cousin was reaped a few years ago and died in the Games, so that has affected him pretty badly. And then there's Jarron, who acts cocky and confident 24/7, so to him, the Games aren't anything to stress about.

As the Reaping begins, I watch calmly as the girl is chosen. Her name is Clio and she looks around the same age as me, fifteen. She's quite short with dark hair in a small ponytail that sticks out over the collar of her blouse. I can't say that I recognise her though, but she seems to be taking the news calmly. Well, that's the best you can do anyway. There's no point in sobbing your heart out, the Capitol don't feel sympathy.

Then it's the boys turn. From the corner of my eye, I can see Mick clenching his fists tighter and tighter until his knuckles go white from the strain. I even notice Jarron drawing in a deep breath.

"Wen Taleigh!"

Eyes turn towards me. Jarron reaches out and gives me a rub on the shoulder. I give him a small smile and shake his hand, then turn to shake Mick's as well. My two friends watch me as I walk out into the middle of the crowd and head for the stage, my teeth gritted hard together. I'm not surprised really, in the back of my mind I always sort of expected to be reaped.

A/N- A nice pair of tributes here, I really liked writing for these two! It was interesting to write for Clio with her illness and I deliberately didn't want to give too much information about it in just the Reaping, so if you felt that it didn't include much detail about the disorder, then don't worry, it will come in a later chapter!

So, thoughts on these tributes? Do you feel sorry for Clio? Will her disorder render her useless in the Games, or will she surprise us all? As for Wen, will his unpredictability aid him or prove costly in the arena?

Thanks to those who submitted, read and reviewed, I really appreciate it! Please continue to read and review, we only have three more Reaping chapters until we move into the Capitol where the tributes will start to mix with each other. I'm getting excited for it now!

District Ten is next...

Thanks, FireflyLlama x

One quick note: The next chapter may have a small delay because I am currently studying for important exams. I will still find time to write though!