Flashback
It had been a full six months since we'd been dumped into District 12. I was wandering the streets in the pouring rain late at night. I'd been going door to door trying to find a job to provide for us all day.
Mom was in a deep slump; she was heavily depressed over Dad's death. She wouldn't eat or drink for nothing. Just sat on her bed and stared at the wall. Don't get me wrong, I was beyond sorrowful for my dad's death too, but I had buried it deep down. Deep into the pits of my mind and kept moving forward, not allowing myself to be taken into the dark depths of depression. I couldn't allow myself to give into grief, not when there were hungry mouths to feed.
To top it off, Melman hadn't had anyone come in lately. His medical business was still newfound and the worst that we had seen that week was only an infected scraped knee. We had to face it: we were slowly starving to death. So the only way to get food from the market was for the only eligible being in the group to get a job. And as luck would have it, no one would hire me. It had something to do with how they didn't want animals for employees, especially large predators.
I was passing by the bakery when the smell of fresh baked goods filled my nose. I looked over to see orange light filtering through the windows with warmth, a beacon in the gloom of cold rain, making me shiver even harder as drops of water pelted my figure. My stomach stubbornly grumbled under my sodden cloak, making my insides twist in knots.
Oh, what I would do for a single piece of bread, even a crumb would be accepted gratefully. To feel real sustenance fill my belly and fatten my sides and face.
But that wasn't an option. I was not going to go down so low to the point of thievery.
Ok, that wasn't entirely true. Maybe I just wouldn't steal from a merchant, specifically the bakery, because of the consequences? No. The truth is… I didn't want to steal because of who the baker was. Lo and behold, Vitally. The older, intimidating feline wasn't one to be crossed. I heard the guy used to be a circus performer in Europe, infamously known for his hoop tricks and throwing knives. Definitely not a good idea to steal from an expert knife thrower.
As I stood outside the cozy little bakery all alone in the rain with an empty belly and sipping coat of fur, I came to a horrifying realization: there was absolutely no hope for us. With no job, that meant no food, and no food meant no survival. We're doomed to starve.
A sob hitched in my throat and I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth. I was so weak from the lack of nutrients that I had to sit down somewhere and wallow before I collapsed in the street. With sluggish steps, I plopped myself under a nearby tree, my thin legs buckling under my weight. I was soaked to the bone. My fur was wet and cold, dripping with butter rivulets that plopped onto my coat. My teeth chattered loudly as a whimper escaped my snout.
What was I to do? Get back up again and make another round the block to see if any sympathetic souls would offer a job to a sickly thin lion in the pouring rain trying to feed his friends and family? Go back home, empty-handed and give only false hope that I'll try again tomorrow, watch the others' faces fall and go to bed with aching stomachs? I couldn't do it.
An idea wormed its way to my cranium, an idea so preposterous yet so tempting that I heed its call: what if I could catch pneumonia and die right then and there! It wouldn't take much with all of this rain. And it was better than returning home a failure.
Yet behind the fake fantasy of being released from this treacherous world, I knew that it wasn't an option. The others needed me; Gloria, Melman, Marty, even my mom. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't be selfish and take my life when there were others who were counting on me to keep those lives good and strong.
Tears trickled down my face, but I couldn't tell how much with the heavy downpour. I wrapped my arms around my knees and listened to the bad weather storm on the town.
About a minute later, my ears erected at the squeal of a door opening and I jumped, thinking that it was the baker who would make me run off for loitering, or worse.
Instead, it revealed a young female jaguar exiting the bakery through the side door of the building. I recognized her immediately. She was the adopted daughter of the baker. Speaking of which, I could hear the large tiger yelling something in Russian to her from inside. She replied back and smiled. Tucked in her delicate arms were what I was guessing to be two burnt loaves of bread. She tore off the blackened parts and threw them to the Un-Serum pig.
She was so young and so full of life. Even for a citizen of District 12, she looked healthy and well fed. God! I envied her.
The female turned slightly and her head jerked, snapping her neck at the sight of me. I froze on the spot when our eyes locked. She looked totally horrified to see such a poor, starving lion sitting in the rain just mere feet away from her. I considered running then, to leap up and disappear in a spray of puddles as my paws pounded pavement, leaving her to blink in surprise and forget that she ever saw me. But there was absolutely no strength left in me, no will left to flee. All I could do was stare back at her.
She suddenly looked to the door and back at me, then again. Her head bouncing from side to side as if she were following a ping pong ball. I was so confused about what she was doing that after a full minute of doing this I hardly noticed when she threw the bread up in the air and landed at my feet. She dashed back into the bakery. But I was no longer paying any attention to her because there, right in front of me as if sent from an angel, were two perfect loaves of bread, aside from the charred edges. I thought I was dreaming, but nonetheless snatched them up into my arms and shoved them under my coat. The sudden, scorching heat burned through my fur, but I didn't care, and I definitely wasn't hallucinating.
I ran back to the house with an untold energy and hope back in my step. I burst through the door and presented the bread to the others. Gloria took them and cleaned and sliced them up. Melman was able to get my mom out of bed to eat with us. That night we ate leftover weed salad with fish and bread. And it was good bread too, hearty with grains and oats. It was the first real meal we had had in ages.
The next day, I went out only to find the meadow covered in a thick blanket of bright yellow dandelions, courtesy of the heavy downpour from last night. Marty picked them for dandelion salad while I gathered fish from a nearby pond.
End of Flashback
That whole circumstance, in spite of being woeful and depressing, had given me hope, all of us hope, that we could actually make it in the Seam. With every day that passes, I am more and more grateful for the gift that had saved us, that saved me. And even though the jaguar girl had given us the bread out of kindness, I felt in debt to her. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's being in debt.
And now, nearly three years later, we're going to an arena where only one out of twenty-four of us will get to live. What a happy reunion.
Presently, she walks up to the stage looking completely shell-shocked. Wearing a simple, light blue dress with a royal blue necklace, most likely a valuable heirloom. She has a lean body with flower spots covering her from head to tail and large, chocolate brown eyes. She hasn't changed one bit since the last time I've seen her.
In the distance, I hear someone wailing loudly. I take a quick glance to see the silhouette of a sea lion sobbing against Vitaly. It's the co-owner of the bakery, Stephano. He's been with Vitaly ever since they came to District 12.
Later on within the upcoming weeks, he'll be witnessing Gia, practically his own daughter, either murdered or hopefully become victorious on a screen.
My stomach drops as if I'm on an elevator and suddenly descended a billion floors. When she reaches the stage, her eyes flicker. She remembers me as the lion she tossed the bread to. The lion who is in debt to her.
"Now shake hands, or paws in this case." Effie laughs aloud at her own "joke", if you can even call it that.
We turn to each other and shake. She gives a reassuring squeeze and without any thought, I return it. We look into each other's eyes and nod. A simple understanding, but at the same time so difficult.
We will most likely have to kill each other, or be killed by the other tributes. It's brutal, but it's our life. A cruel reality.
"Let's give a big round of applause for our tributes!" Effie cheers.
For the love of God, please shut up and leave us alone to wrap the idea of us being slaughtered to settle.
No one claps, which is startling. As if.
But then it starts with one, then three, then a dozen, to a hundred. Instead of applauding, the crowd slowly put three fingers to their lips and raise their left arms in the air. In our district, it's a sign of farewell and respect. We don't do it often, usually at funerals or something of the like. A sort of last goodbye.
How reassuring.
The anthem plays again and we're shoved inside the Justice Building with Tooth on our tails, literally.
I've been to the Justice Building for a number of my trades, but I've never been inside before. I'd found out that the mayor had a sweet spot for strawberries. And lucky for me, I had a patch growing right in the Meadow. He always made an all too good of a trade; a thick coat or some cloth for every gallon. But hey! Who was I to complain?
We're separated and told to stay in a room with a single couch and desk. It's quite luxurious, yet plain. We'll get visitors in a few short minutes. I sit down on the sofa to feel the soft fabric beneath me. Red velvet. I haven't felt velvet in a long time. I can't help myself when I allow my paw to run over the soft cushions, hoping that it'll calm me.
In a minute, the door is opened by a Peacekeeper. Marty, Gloria, Melman and my mom practically break down the door once they catch sight of me. In a flash of white and black, Marty zooms in and hugs me so tight I can't breath. I hug him back with the same amount of force, not caring that my lungs are begging for air. Melman and Gloria join in and cling to me, as if hanging on for dear life. The urge to cry has never been more tempting, but I force it down. Now is not the time to weep like a baby. I have to be strong for them. For me.
I realize that without me, they need to do extra chores and errands in order for them to get enough food to get by. I quickly list off what they need to do; keep getting wood for the nights, gather as many edible plants as possible and sell them throughout the trades for a number of supplies, work extra shifts if they need to, get water from the pond, go into town if they require any extra materials. I even give them a few names of people who'd be willing to help. They're to not take any tesserae. I couldn't live with myself if they ever do it. And they promise not to, which is a relief.
"Alex, you have to get to a bow. A knife will be easy, but it's your best chance." Melman insists.
"They don't always have bows though." I say.
"Then make one. Any bow is better than nothing." Gloria counters. I've attempted to make a few bows in the past, all of them being worthless and terrible. But then again, the arena may not even have wood. There were some games where they were in a tundra, a desert, or grasslands.
"I don't even know if there'll be wood." I say.
"There's almost always wood." Melman remarks. True to his word, they usually do have wood. One year, all of the contestants froze to death because there was nothing to fuel their fires. Not much entertainment.
I nod my head in agreement. He looks relieved now that I will have some fleeting chance at winning. Marty then takes me aside with a serious expression pasted on his face.
"You'll try to win, right?" His forest green eyes are pleading and on the verge of tears.
I know I can't win. I know for a fact that I can't. And deep down, he knows it too. Most of the contestants train their entire lives to prepare for this moment. To be the top dogs when chosen for the Hunger Games as if training for the gold medal at the Olympics, only the gold medal is given to only one contestant and said medal is their life. They consider it an honor to win, not so much as suicide. And even though I'm a lion with claws and canines, the others most likely know twenty-three different ways on how to kill any animal. And all I know is how to use the bow and arrow for hunting. It's practically hopeless. But he needs something to hold on to. Something to have faith in. And dammit! I'm going to give it to him.
"I promise I'll try. I really will." I promise.
Marty unclips something from his garb and places it into the pad of my paw, right in the middle of my birthmark.
"Here, it'll protect you and keep you from harm." He smiles weakly.
I look down to find the pin of the golden mockingjay, my gift to my friend. The memory of earlier this morning seems like years ago; decades. I wrap my fingers around the pin and hug him again, knowing that it might be the last of them. I stuff the adornment into my pocket and I finally turn to my mom. Her blue eyes shimmer with tears, the same eyes I have. Yet I grip her by the shoulders hard and look her straight in the eye in all seriousness.
"Listen to me. Are you listening?" I bark out.
She nods, alarmed at my intensity.
"You can't clock out. No matter how much you want to."
Her eyes find the floor as she hears this. "I know. I couldn't help it-"
"Well you have to help it now." I interrupt. "I won't be around to help you guys survive. And no matter what you hear or see on the t.v., you have to promise me that you'll get through it." My voice has risen into a shout.
I was just as upset as her when Dad died, but when my mom couldn't get out of it to help us or even herself, I was angry at her. I resented her, even after she was done grieving. As if some cord between us had snapped, disconnecting me from trust and her from peace. But now I can't be distant with her. This may as well be my last time to ever speak to her again, and I'm not going to waste it on blaming her for mourning. I must salvage what had been broken three years ago in the next three seconds.
I pull her into a tight embrace and press my face into her shoulder. "I love you, Mom." I whisper into her shoulder.
"I love you too, Alakay." She says in a tear-choked voice. She's the only one who ever calls me by my real name.
The Peacekeeper opens the door and pulls everyone out of the room, leaving me alone once again.
My next visitors are two people I don't expect. The bakers, Vitaly and Stephano, with a box of chocolate chip cookies. They sit on either side of me; the sea lion's eyes bloodshot from crying and the tiger's shoulders hunched forward, giving off an air of coldness that forces me to rub my arms as I shiver with chills. All is quiet in the small room before either of them speak.
"Listen-a, Alice." Stephano says, his thick Italian accent causing him to get my name wrong. "We'll-a… keep an eye on-a your family-a. Even-a the young-a zebra." He says awkwardly.
"Thank you." Is all I can manage.
I've known Stephano from my many trades with him, even had a conversation or two. He told me about how he and Vitally met when they were young and were raised as brothers, but he wouldn't tell me much about Gia or what their lives were like before Panem. He and Vitally have been best friends ever since he could remember and they were given the bakery out of sheer dumb luck.
We sit there another quiet moment until Vitaly shoves the box at me forcefully. "Here. Take." He growls lowly. His rough voice is bitter, although it carries a sort of sadness. I take the cookies into my paws and nod my head in respect. I can smell the sweet, warm chocolate and sugar inside wafting through the cardboard.
Vitaly's angry (obviously), paws clenched into fists as if he wants to break something. The cause of his posture makes him all the more dangerous and scary if triggered, like a rabid animal just waiting for a victim to cross its path. I'd act that way too if I was losing someone I loved. Someone who he practically raised and cared for, only to be taken away from him by government officials who only mean to have herbe killed in the end. I almost went through it today when I'd almost lost Marty. Plus, Vitaly isn't too much of a chatterbox.
A minute flies by and they are kicked out.
The door opens yet again and I'm suddenly engulfed in a hug. I squeeze the animal I'm holding, already knowing who it is. I barely have enough time to say anything before Tigress is in my face. Her lips are moving, but no sound comes out. That's strange.
Her eyes frantically travel over my face, paws clasped around my cheeks. Her sharp claws graze through the short ombré of my snout gently, not once threatening to break skin. Her strong, steady hold brings me back to reality.
"Alex, you have to win." She says. She sounds desperate, her voice shaky and slightly hoarse. I have no doubt in my mind that she's hellbent on not crying. I know that feeling all too well.
She already knows, doesn't she? Doesn't she already know that I have just as much of a chance at winning as a snail does winning the Indy 500? She must or else she wouldn't feel the need to urge me to actually win.
"But…" I waver. "I can't. You know au can't. I'm not strong like you. And you've seen the other tributes in recent years. They'll kill me before I can even-"
"No!" She shouts suddenly, interrupting me mid sentence.
I blink in surprise. She's never yelled at me before.
"Do whatever it takes to survive. I've seen you hunt, gather, everything. You can make it with the right tools, but you cannot risk getting killed!" She looks into my eyes. Her usual hard stare she casually wears has disappeared. Soft, tender flecks of fear have replaced her facade.
I have never seen her like this before.
She leans in until our mouths are nearly touching.
"You have to win." She breathes out, her breath hot against my fur. She isn't willing to hide a grave expression. I can practically see a thin line of water collect in her eyes.
"But I can't win!" I say with a definitive bite, pushing her away so that I can see her fully. "You know damn well that I can't win. And inspirational speeches, hugs or kisses are gonna change that and you know it! So stop with all this fortune cookie muck and face the fact that I'm going to die just like every sorry sap of a tribute that has ever crawled out of this hellhole and there's nothing you or anyone for that matter can do about it!" I scream out, feeling much too hot and much too angry.
It takes Tigress a moment to speak up again but not much longer for me to realize just how much of an asshole I just sounded like.
Goddammit! Will I ever learn to shut my mouth for once?!
"You're all I have left." She whispers.
I stop short, completely unprepared for such a sentiment.
Tigress steps forward with small yet purposeful steps until her nose just grazes the small gifts of fur lining my chin.
"I've lost everyone I've ever known and loved." She hushes, reaching her arms up to place her paws on their previous position tenderly clutching on my cheeks, slowly bowing our heads and pressing our foreheads together. Her eyes close shut, her paws shuddering as she holds me. "I can't lose you, too."
This motion of hers isn't quite uncommon for us. In fact, everyone in District 12 does this as a sign of love, mostly in very good friendships to represent the utmost gratitude felt between the two companions. It couldn't be any more appropriate than right now in this moment.
I eventually close my eyes too, taking in the scent of sweet and cookies while darkness swirls behind the back of my eyelids.
Tigress is the strongest person I know. Hardcore, stubborn, and an amazing fighter. Walking around with a scowl plastered on her face that would make any large male run away with his tail between his legs, and only smiles at the children's center. Most would describe her as harsh and silent, aggressive at some points. But I know better. And although she'll never admit it, she's the most caring animal in all of District 12.
I ponder this as we hold each other. If Tigress is all of those things and more and she believes that I can win, then maybe I actually can. And yeah, maybe she's only saying these things to motivate me to make the best of my efforts in the arena last and hopefully ensure me coming out in one, very much alive piece, or maybe even she's even saying all this to delude herself that the one and only person in her life that she considers a close friend is going to travel across the country and be murdered on television. It doesn't matter. What matters now is that Tigress, the hardcore ex-Kung Fu warrior who just so happens to be my newfound best friend, is holding me and that's enough.
We know our time is up when a Peacekeeper yanks us apart. We scramble to grab one another again, both of us not wanting whatever this is to end.
"Don't let them starve." I call after her when they're halfway through the door.
"I won't." She hurriedly answers. "Alex, there's something I have to tell you. I-" The door slams in her face before she finishes and I rush forward, pounding my fist against the hard wood in a desperate attempt to hear Tigress' last words. But when I press my ear to the flat grain, all that there's to be heard is silence. I'll never know what she was going to say.
After that, I have no more guests and we leave the building.
Author's Note: Sorry for yet another stupidly long chapter. Hope you liked it, tho