Dahlia Marigold's father had passed away when she was very young. She lived with her mother and four younger siblings on their grandmother's farm. Much of the labor fell to Dahlia once she was old enough. Dahlia and her family were barely able to keep the farm afloat. And little did any of them know that it was about to get harder.
Dalia walked behind her grandmother and two younger brothers through the cobblestoned town square. She was glad she was old enough that she didn't have to be a part of the hand holding anymore. She always used to hate touching her grandma's wrinkled hands, and she felt that her hands were made drier just by contact with her grandmothers—like a dry, cracked sponge being pressed against your skin, leeching all the water out. Dahlia shivered.
As she paced behind them, Dahlia heard something. She stopped and turned. There was a long brown cat, mewing from beneath a drain grate. Dahlia went over to the cat.
"Hello." She said, "How did you get down there?"
Dahlia stuck her fingers into the cracks of the grate and wiggled them for the cat. The cat pawed at her fingers and mewed.
"Let's see if we can get you out of there." She said.
Dahlia heaved up on the grate, but it didn't budge. She looked for the mechanism keeping it in place, but couldn't find screws or bolts or cement of any kind. She put her foot next to the grate and prepared to give it a big pull.
"Stop!" She heard a peacekeeper yell.
"Oh sorry!" She muttered turning around to look. Dahlia saw that the peacekeeper hadn't yelled at her. Dahlia saw her grandmother and two little brother's making a quick pace away from the market.
"Grandma!" Dahlia yelled to no avail. Where was she going? That's when Dahlia saw the two peacekeepers running after her grandmother and brothers. Dahlia ran towards them. She saw the peacekeeper grab her grandmother by the wrist and twist her arm. Her grandmother shrieked and fell to the ground. An assortment of vegetables poured out of her carrier's bag.
"Those are them! I told you she stole them." Dahlia saw a vender pointing.
"Take your items back, mam. And you, all of you are coming with us."
The peacekeepers placed her grandmother and brothers in restraints. Her two little brothers were crying loudly. A crowd had gathered now. Dahlia was frozen with fear. The peacekeepers began leading them off towards the Hall of Justice. Her little brothers' howling continued. Nobody was going to stop this. She couldn't take it.
"Let them go!" She screamed and ran at a peacekeeper. He turned around and swatted her with the back of his hand. Dahlia was knocked backwards along the cement.
"Little Mutt!" The peacekeeper yelled. He drew a blade and plunged it into Dahlia's eye.
"Lawrence what are you doing!"
"She attacked me!"
"You can't kill a kid!"
"She's not dead yet."
"Leave her!"
Dahlia passed out. Neither of her brothers nor her grandmother was ever heard from again. That had been four years ago. And the memory was still quite vivid. After that things were even worse at home, with only her mother and two little sisters to run their farm.
Fourteen-year-old Dahlia placed a hand over her eye patch. Sometimes it still felt like she had an eye. She watched as the escort drew a name.
"Dahlia Marigold!"
Dahlia sighed. She knew this was a possible consequence when she took the tesserae. Dahlia bit the inside of her lower lip. It was habit she'd formed when stressing out on the farm. She made her way to the front.
"Noble Maddox!"
Huh? Noble Maddox hesitated. No. No, it can't be. No no no no. This isn't fair! It isn't fair! Noble Maddox wasn't budging from his spot and the peacekeepers grabbed him and dragged him down. It took two of them to do so, as Noble was rather plump—some of it was muscle but some was fat. And if you had asked anybody else, he or she would probably tell you that it was fair. Noble was primarily concerned with himself. Maybe it was because he was an only child. Maybe it was just how he was raised. Or maybe there is just some intangible, unchangeable, ancient component within each of us that makes us who we are. Either way, Noble was a selfish eighteen-year-old answering to Karma.
The two of them in front of District Eleven were quite a spectacle. Round Noble with his dark eyes and tanned skin. He had a short, frizzy ball of hair, covered with a bandana. Beneath him was short Dahlia. The same dark skin and eyes, with her long dark hair in a fox braid. And the eye patch. To see the two up there on the stage like that, one could already tell that each was already conspiring against the other.
Noble's only friends were his parents. The three of the Maddox Clan huddled together and cried in the Hall of Justice. It was a deep cry, without catharsis.
"Your strong, Son. You've worked on the farm." His father told him with a weak smile. "I think you'll have a shot. Give it the old Maddox try."
"Yeah." His mother chimed in.
Maddox felt sorrier for himself than he had in a long time. But not as sorry as he could feel. There is something about the human brain that computes risk poorly. In fact, when it comes to computing risk, humans are some of the worst in the animal kingdom. The human psyche tends to focus on the reward. If the odds are terrible, but the reward is huge, there is a part of the brain that just knows it will get it. And so, even though he was sad, Maddox just knew he would come home a victor.
Dahlia's room was silent. Her mother and two little sisters were there. This was almost as much a death sentence for them as it was for her. Her mother could now be on her own to operate a farm, because her daughters were only four and six. It was rather strange. Nobody knew who should say goodbye first. And then Dahlia spoke.
"When I come home we'll all get to live in the Victor's mansion. No more farm."
Her little sister's face lit up.
"Really?"
A/N: There are now 2.5 blind tributes. I have two more reapings to do (with the addition of District 13). I'm trying to think of a good order to do the trainings... For now I think it will just be randomized. Of course there will be some overlap, so even if the training isn't from your character's perspective that character could still be in the chapter. I'm figuring out the details as I write.
Happy St. Paddy's Day, everyone! There was an all out brawl at a bar I was at earlier, until the bouncer stepped in and absolutely pummeled everyone involved. All I can say is that they would have made terrible Hunger Games contestants, except for the bouncer, who was probably a career.