And here we are, in the wonderfully, er… earthy District Eleven! Here we will be meeting Willow Orchids and Thorn Ashburry, a couple 13-year-olds from the Agriculture District. Are you excited? I'm excited!
Yes I was gone. Yes, I'm sure you didn't care too much. After all, my story isn't the only thing that keeps you going, right? Three weeks, consisting of a) the beach, b) Driver's Ed (taking half the day) and c) mountains of Driver's Ed homework (that took the other half of the day). Lucky for me, and whoever honestly follows my writing religiously, I passed the class and am free for the rest of the Summer. My unrealistic goal for today is: be in the Capitol within a week (Thursday).
Reviews!
faceless eater aka slendergirl: Thanks for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed how I wrote Denny, I hope I did Willow justice. Can't wait to hear from you again!
dreams and desperation: Look, I understand that you want Cyma alive. I get that. You have lost more tributes thus far. Heck, one of your tributes placed second! That's gotta hurt. Tell ya what. Throw support behind my Atalanta, and I'll guarantee Cassia makes Top 25. Deal? Honestly, though, I wish you luck. All I ask for is some in return. As of now, I haven't had any tribute make the top half!
Mystical Pine Forest: I'm gonna be flat out honest right here. Age doesn't matter to me in the Hunger Games. I believe a 12-year old could win, as has happened on 3 occasions. Since the 3rd Quell, 13 children have walked out of the Arena at 13, one of them from Ten. Don't count Cheyenne out yet!
jayman1919: I'm glad you liked them, even if they weren't your tributes. Thanks for reviewing!
TranscendentElvenRanger: I'm glad you liked Cheyenne, she's one of my favorite tributes too. If she gets enough support behind her, I'm sure we'll see her on the trains. Mathematically speaking, you actually have a 3:26 chance. Remember, Thirteen is in these Games, too.
The Rcse: I'm glad you feel that way, I felt the same. There will be a poll once the Reapings are over, to select the train tributes. I'm sure both your tributes will make it far, what with Mera being in a 5-person alliance off the bat, and people love Devon. (Check the Sponsors section) Happy Hunger Games!
Yet another heads-up: When the Reapings are over, I will be changing the story's title to Into the Darkness: The 6th Quarter Quell. The current one is a bit of a mouthful.
In TranscendentElvenRanger's Forest of Death: The 54th Hunger Games, my District One female tribute, Atalanta Bliss, is a confirmed survivor of Day 4, with 1 kill. Let's give her some support!
I am not Suzanne Collins. I do not own the Hunger Games, or anything else I reference.
When you're done reading the chapter, check out the Sponsor points. Something's changed slightly.
Thanks to faceless eater aka slendergirl and CreativeAJL for Willow and Thorn!
Willow Orchids, Age 13, District 11 Female
"I'm serious, Willow, you need to be more careful. One day, your tongue will betray you, and you'll end up hung in the middle of the square. Quick thinking won't hel- why are you smiling? This isn't funny, Willow!" Asher was lecturing me for the thousandth time. I had almost been caught by the peacekeepers in the orchards, again, but I thought quick and dropped an easy lie. I dropped my smile, and Asher held his hands to his temples.
Behind him, Hans contorted his face, and I giggled.
Earlier that morning, I had been doing some "extra work" in the orchards outside Sector 4, out by the wall. In the midst of tending to the orange trees, I had slipped a few into my satchel. On my way home, I was stopped by a peacekeeper officer and a few others. They asked me what was in my satchel, and I told them. All they saw were the rocks I carefully placed around the fruits.
"Oh, but dear brother, you haven't seen what I scored yet." I pouted before he could start talking again. I raised my eyebrows in a dramatic matter, "Aren't you a little curious, Asher dear?" Seeing the quizzical look in his eyes, I gave another grin and grabbed the satchel from where it hung on the wall of our scrap heap of a home.
As I carefully pulled out the rocks and placed them on the cold, hard dirt floor, Asher sighed. "Rocks aren't illegal, Willow. You can get them anywhere. Here's another one." I watched his face as he bent over, picking a pebble from the ground. As he turned back to me, he started, "Those really weren't wor-"
I laughed as he paused, his ebony eyes widening. The light brown skin around his face creased as his mouth mimicked the smile on my face.
"For my twin, you don't have any faith in me." I laughed as I tossed him the orange I held in my hand, and then proceeded to dig through the bag to produce three more oranges. One of them had been crushed slightly by the large rocks, so I opted to keep it for myself. I flicked my wrist, sending one fruit spiraling through the air and into Hans' upturned palms. I handed the other to Mira, who had helped quite a bit with the escapade.
We all hurriedly ripped open our oranges, biting into the flesh greedily. We all moaned as one, attempting to keep the delicious juices from dripping from our chins. Hans, Mira and I sat down on the three available stools in the room, and Asher plopped himself down into Hans' lap. We were just preparing to enjoy another round, when the front door opened.
We all hopped to our feet, more than a little startled, and gazed at the bright doorway. A dark figure stepped inside, and we all sighed in relief as she hung up her shawl. She looked around at all of us, and shook her head.
"Mira, your mother's been asking after you, and needs you home. Asher, Willow, I need your Reaping clothes on your bodies ASAP. And Hans," She looked to where he and my brother were cuddling. She broke her kind voice slightly and filled it with sarcastic venom, "release my little brother, boy, before I smack you upside your little head!" He only laughed and untangled himself.
When all that remained was the remnants of the Orchids family, Asher and I split and wandered to our separate rooms. "Rooms," of course, is a bit of a stretch. Each room was really just a wire or string set across a corner, a fabric of some sort draped over it.
As I closed the makeshift black curtain, I dressed out of my gray jumpsuit, wincing slightly at the cold dirt that met my feet. Giving a slight groan, I swiftly swiped my Reaping clothes off an old, rusting shelf that I had to try not to cut myself with. Draped in my arms were a simple skirt and blouse, both originally a pale green, both now a bleached white.
Carefully putting the clothes on so as to avoid the jutting metal, I noticed something that hadn't been there earlier that morning. I reached out and grabbed the piece of paper, holding it carefully in my hands. Three people were in the photo, a small girl, eight or nine, sat between two grinning adults. On the left was a woman who, like me and Asher, had ebony eyes, light brown skin, and brown wavy hair. On the right, a man, with darker skin, short-cropped black hair, and bright blue eyes, a near exact copy of the little girl.
Or of Mint.
Looking at the picture longingly, I sighed. Mint had told me the story hundreds of times. How Asher and I were born, and our mother died because of it. In grief, our father had disappeared, leaving nine-year-old Mint with two newborns and no way to care for them.
I hugged my older sister tighter than ever as she told me to get in lines for the Reapings.
Thorn Ashburry, Age 13, District 11 Male
"We have just received confirmation that District Ten tribute Cheyenne Bruno has finally been detained." Julius Incandes announced with a gleeful smile. As the Master of Ceremonies, he had been evaluating each of the tributes, calling various Victors and other authorities to speculate. The joy he held for a little girl entering a death match with twenty-five others made me mad. Then again, pretty much anything Capitol-related made me mad.
A few years ago, before even my older sister was of Reaping age, my mother disappeared. Nobody knew where she went, other than she left in the middle of the night. My father cried all that day, and fell behind on his work. The peacekeepers flogged him in the middle of the District, and, after finding out what happened, interrogated the whole family.
This "interrogation" included 3 things. Stage One: Break into the family's home and destroy everything. Stage Two: Shoot the only girl in the arm to get an answer. Stage Three: Get your head bashed in late that night by an unidentified attacker, and not remember any details of the attack.
And before you ask it, yes, I was the "unidentified attacker" and no, that peacekeeper is not in the District anymore.
I groaned as I got off the couch, working the small kinks that had worked their way into my neck throughout the morning. Both those kids from Ten were around my age, and, more than likely, neither of them were going to leave the Arena alive. They were going to be butchered like pigs, I knew, like they did every year.
I raised my hands to my temples and rubbed slowly, taking it all in. The surprise volunteers from One and Four. The overconfident boy from Two, with the Victor sister. The young mother from Five. The slip of a girl from Six. The crazy one from Seven. The tears from Eight. The little girl from Nine, Reaped five years before. The runaway from Ten. And soon, a couple of young, sobbing twelve-year-olds from Eleven, ripped away from the fields of amber they had called home for so long.
It could be me.
Without the Quell, I wouldn't have been worried. With only four slips, the odds were in my favor more than ever. With the reduced age requirements, however, every tribute candidate has a low amount of slips.
I was torn from my thoughts as footsteps rounded the corner from the room we used as our kitchen. Turning, I saw it was my older sister, Jessica. Upon seeing me, she held her arm out (the one NOT in a sling) and ran forward, embracing me. The hugs had become more and more frequent since the Quell announcement. I think it's because she's seventeen and therefore not eligible.
She took a step back, meeting my eyes. "You ready for today, Thorn?" She asked, then leaned forward, looking me over. "Is that honestly what you're wearing?"
I looked down at myself, imagining how I must have looked to her. My curly black hair reached the tips of my small ears, being the butt of many jokes. My chocolate brown eyes and small nose add to the look of innocence. Puffy cheeks, indicating a bit of chubbiness that in no way exists. A white t-shirt, blue jeans, and worn, dirty white shoes on my 5'5", 102 pound frame. Most of that weight is muscle from the fields, though.
"I don't see why not. Are you honestly wearing that?" I gestured to her arm. Though she was shot years ago, she still needed the sling because the bullet shattered her shoulder. Before she could even work, she was "unfit" for it.
She smirked and held her good arm out like she wanted to squeeze my neck. "If only I had two arms, you little butt." She laughed, I laughed, the booming voice behind me laughed.
Before I could turn, I was lifted off my feet with a large, hairy arm. My father then proceeded to carefully envelope Jessica in his embrace. He gave us each a little squeeze. "Ooooh, I love these two kids!" He quickly put me down and released Jessica as bells tolled. He sighed. "I suppose we'd better leave." His face hardened with worry.
I smiled and hugged him in an attempt to cheer him up. "Can I go get Iliana and Jayden, dad? I told them I'd walk with them."
His smile returned, a certain level of fondness in his eyes. "Yes, of course." His gruff voice permitted kindly. With one last hug, I walked out, looking back at the house for what I had been dreading might be the last time.
I shook my head and jogged down the empty, dry street to where my best friends lived. I tried not to look at the mailbox, which read:
Jacob and Izabelle Ashburry
17 Cherry Tree Lane
If only Mother knew how much Father had paid for her absence.
Willow Orchids, Age 13, District 11 Female
I was standing alone in the 13-year-old section, waiting for the video to start and the escort to shut her mouth. After announcing her name, (Jora Nettles) she began to talk about courage and honor. How District Eleven always gives good tributes, ones play the game well regardless of age or physical limit. How nine children ever made it back, and they had every right to have made it.
"And now, dear citizens of District Eleven, a presentation from the Capitol, for your enjoyment!" She cried.
Everything went quiet, as nobody wanted to get caught being disrespectful to the video. The voice, clearly the President's, read out to the people. He talked about the Games, why they were made, and why they're still an annual event. He talked about the Districts and they're obedience. The Girl on Fire and her little rebellion. The Quell, and how, though Chaff and Seeder placed eleventh and nineteenth, they fought well.
By the end of the video, Jora was wiping her eyes. "Wasn't that wonderful?" She asked. "You should see Thirteen's. It is dreadfully boring!" She gave a high-pitched, squeaky laugh, but quieted quickly after realizing nobody was laughing with her. "Well then." She continued, "I suppose I should name your valiant Victors." Her voice was laced with venom, and the girl next to me jumped.
"District Eleven has won nine of the past one-hundred forty-nine Hunger Games." I rolled my eyes at that. Her attempt of comedy had failed, and now she was trying to bore us to death? "The first Victor from these fields was Elizabeth Lilac, the Victor of the Third Hunger Games. Next a young man, named Korn Flower," She smirked at the odd name, "won the Twentieth. Seeder Yew, the Victor of the Thirty-Third Games, placed nineteenth when Enobaria Chaet stabbed her with a spear in the Bloodbath of the Seventy-Fifth. Seeder's first Victor, Chaff Kane, was no match when Brutus Stoner snapped his neck, placing him in eleventh.
"The first Victor since those Games, Orchus Fielding, the Ninety-Ninth." She gestured to the living Victors, where a large, muscular man stood. "Ten years after that, Daisy Mae Withers. Soon after, in the One-Hundred Sixteenth, Isaiah Kranz. Crysta Rine gave birth during the One-Hundred Thirty-Seventh, and we hope her child is returned to her. And finally, after climbing over nine tributes to take the throne," Her face twisted at yet another ridiculous name, "Sour Reaper, the One-Hundred Forty-Sixth annual Hunger Games." A small cheer rose from the crowd, most having noticed the way the peacekeepers were brandishing their weapons.
"Now. We are gathered here today to talk about not your old Victors, but our new tributes and candidates for the crown. Dare I say it, may the odds be ever in your favor."
She quickly grabbed a paper from the girls' bowl, and I tensed. The girl last year had gone to my school, been in my class. She had died in the bloodbath, killed by the Victor herself. Jora opened the crisp paper slowly, and called a name.
"Willow Orchids! Come up here, sweetie, congratulations!"
I couldn't help it, I screamed. I screamed for Asher and Mint and Mira and Hans and I tried to run. I tried to run but the girls around me started whispering to me. They told me I should just go, that I didn't want to get into trouble with the Capitol. But these were my peers, my friends. Why did they want me to go die?
Finally, a girl slapped me and screamed, "Don't be stupid, Orchids, get up there!" I shook out of my panic and reluctantly obeyed.
Izabelle "Izzy" Ashburry, Age 41, Mother of Thorn Ashburry
"Oh that poor little girl!" someone exclaimed. We had all been watching the Reapings through the morning, and those without eligible children had stayed behind to get a little more money through extra work. It's truly amazing how little you get for finishing a quilt.
But I wasn't paying attention to my work. Most of the women had sat watching until Tulle and Henry were Reaped. I didn't bat an eye as Henry's older sister came running into the factory to the embrace of half the workers.
I was waiting for District Eleven.
The girl was small, a little less skinny that most Elevens, though it's hard to tell. Her eyes were wide and filled with terror. I sat forward as the escort in the black robes fluttered over to the boys' bowl, and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
Thorn Ashbury.
I couldn't bear to see my son make his way to the stage. I screamed and ran and suddenly I was in my filthy apartment, sobbing into a pillow. "Why?" I moaned, then louder, "Why? Why, why, WHY?!" I stood and started to throw things around the room. The oil lamp, shattered against the headboard. The old wooden stool, shattering the window and dropping to the streets below.
I destroyed just about everything in the room before curling into a ball and crying. Through my tears, I heard a sound in the distance. A whistle, a flurry of steps, the shouts of reporters. All of them calling out, "Tulle, your opening odds for the Games are thirty-two to one. Can you elaborate on that?" "Henry, do you think you can come home after fifty-five years of nothing but failure?"
I sat up, suddenly shaking my head. The idea had implanted itself into my brain and it wasn't going to leave any time soon. Jumping to my feet, I hurried to my closet and grabbed my suitcase that I had used so many years before. Normally, upon seeing it I would hold it and think of my family. Today, however, I was busy stuffing it with skirts, shirts, money, food, anything I would need.
Finally finished, I threw on a jacket with a large hood and marched out of my apartment complex without looking back.
The train station was just down the road, and reporters were still there to get as much info as possible on the tributes. Ignoring them, I strode to the back of the train to a maintenance hatch, and opened it slowly.
Wincing at the noise it made, I climbed inside. After making sure the coast was clear, I lifted the suitcase and held it under my arm. With one hand, I inched forward as quickly and quietly as I could.
Whenever I heard a noise of any kind, I'd stop and hold my breath with panic. After what felt like hours, I had made it to another hatch that read, Avox Quarters. Smiling to myself, I opened the hatch and peered inside.
There were very few of the mute servants in the room, but none of them seemed to care about who I was or why I had just come out of the hatch.
I may not have been able to save Thorn from the Games, but I was sue as heck going to see him one last time before he had to play them.
Willow Orchids, Age 13, District 11 Female
I was still wracking with sobs when the door opened. My eyes were blurry from the tears, so I only saw blurred shadows when I looked up. Wiping my tears with my whole hand, I looked again. The sight before me made me want to cry harder.
Mint's eyes were filled with angry tears, her expression making me cringe slightly. Mira's eyes were filled with rage, a rage that could probably destroy the nation. And Asher…
Asher was being held by Hans, balling uncontrollably. Hans looked like he wanted to give some as well, but was trying to be strong for my little brother. I stood and gave them both a hug, Asher's tears soaking my dress. I cried with him.
Another body, Mint, enveloped us, trying desperately to receive the last family hug that she'd ever possess. I had just felt her hand reach into my pocket when we heard the scream.
We all jumped, Asher clinging to me like a lifeline. I looked around wildly, until my eyes landed on Mira.
"This is so unfair!" She screamed again. She grabbed the bowl of fruit off the table and hefted it over her head. "This is so stupid!" She through the bowl side-arm across the room. A banana hit me in the head. She flipped the table, too.
Mira continued on her rampage, her slim, sixteen-year-old body showing surprising strength as she threw chairs, a clock, ripped thick pillows, and chucked the blood red rug like one of those bladed discs they sometimes have in the Games. With each scream, each clatter, Asher hides his face farther behind me. Eventually, Hans is holding him again.
And then Mint is on her, trying to get her to stop thrashing. After only a moment, three peacekeepers threw open the door and marched in. Two of them stood on either side of the door and the third stepped forward, a box in his hand. He raised it and, without warning, the sound of electricity buzzed through the air and Mira was on the ground, twitching. The man then pulled out another one and shot Mint.
I gave a cry as they were dragged out, with Hans now full-on carrying Asher. I stood there in shock as I reached into my pocket, pulling out a bar of chocolate and a pair of bead earrings.
Thorn Ashburry, Age 13, District 11 Male
Dad and Jessica had just finished their visit when the screams came echoing down the hall. They had left after telling me that they loved me, and that playing their Game was important. If I ever wanted to make it home alive, I'd have to kill anyone who crossed my path. Would I have had it in me though?
My door didn't open until after the screams had ceased. They didn't sound like Willow's cries, so I figured it must have been a relative or something. Once the door did open, I looked up at my two best friends.
"Well, this is a mess." Jayden Churmes said first.
Iliana Berrylise smacked him in the back of the head. "What did we talk about, you dipstick?" She cried, "Lines like that aren't helpful at all!" He grumbled at that, to which she hit him again. "Shut up."
I gave a good, long, real laugh, and they joined in. "You know, guys, there is a chance I could make it out of this alive." I remarked, "You know, as long as I get past the fact that I'd be Eleven's youngest Victor, I could actually see it happening."
"You'd have to kill other people." Jayden warned.
"You'll be fine." Iliana grabs my hand, causing me to blush slightly. "Just get a good alliance and a weapon and you'll do great. Easier than peacekeepers, really. In fact-"
"Wait, what?" Jayden cries indignantly, "What about peacekeepers? Thorn, what did you do?"
Iliana and I then told him the story of the peacekeeper I attacked when I was seven -really? Only seven? -and his eyes widened as we told him the tale. He gasped when I told him that I had been behind most of the peacekeeper attacks since then, and it was then that I was interrupted.
"And you didn't tell me all this why?" He asked grim-faced.
"Well, I don't know. Slipped my mind I gue-"
"Dude, that is so COOL! I wish I had the guts to do that!" He was grinning.
Iliana was smiling at me brightly, and I mustered up the courage that I had been looking for for months. "Iliana. I-"
"Just a second, Thorn. I want you to do me a favor, okay?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Anything. Shoot." I stammered.
"Help Willow in the Arena. I was standing next to her when she was called." She said quietly. "She was so scared. Please. Just help her a little bit, okay? If she has to die, try to make it quick." I could tell her heart was sinking as quick as mine was.
How could I have told her how I felt after she dropped a bomb like that? My courage dissipated and I tried hard not to slump. "Okay." I said.
Long after she was gone, her words rang in my ears.
Help Willow in the Arena.
Help Willow in the Arena.
Help Willow in the Arena.
Crysta Rine, Age 31, District 11 Female Mentor
137th Hunger Games Victor
They say nobody ever truly wins the Games. I could tell you that it wasn't true, that the Victor wins every time. That life is always great for them.
If I did, I'd have been lying.
On the third day of the Games, having escaped the bloodbath with absolutely nothing, I did the worst thing that anyone can do in the games. I went into labor. The Capitol hovercrafts picked me up, and I had to deliver my baby girl, Sunflower, among the corpses of seven dead children. After that, they sewed me up and plopped me back into the Arena.
At that point I was done. I wanted to see the child, to hold her, and so I ventured back to the Cornucopia. Two Careers were camped there, the girls from One and Four. They were messing around, drunk on danger and bloodlust, and didn't notice when I made the mad dash for the machete the girl from Four loved so much. Their heads bounced along the hard packed dirt.
Through the next few days, I killed three of the other Four Careers and three outer district children, including my district partner, to get to the crown. Once it was firmly on my head, I rested. I thought my life would be perfect.
But my little Sunflower was gone.
Nobody knew what happened, whether she was kidnapped or "misplaced." I've looked since my Victory Tour, but my baby hasn't returned.
I survived for her. I need her back.
Orchus Fielding, Age 65, District 11 Male Mentor
99th Hunger Games Victor
I was waiting outside the train doors when the Quell's tributes got out of the car to board the train. They were talking, giggling quietly. Crysta was already on the train, trying to come up with a game plan. I had a feeling we were going to need more than anything she could cook up.
I greeted the children, the thirteenth and fourteenth Elevens to ever go into a Quell. I boarded behind them when I heard the boy, Thorn say something I seldom hear from my tributes.
"So, Willow. Wanna be allies?" He asked in a serious tone.
"Really?" Willow asked, sounding a little too surprised. She straightened her expression and added, "Well, of course, Mr. Ashburry. Now, would you like some tea?" Her voice had become deep, manly. Neither of them were paying attention to what was around them, and as I cleared my throat a voice rang across the room.
"Hello, children. Welcome aboard what I'm sure is your first ever train ride. Please, indulge yourselves." Crysta gestured to the table piled high with delicacies from around the nation. The tributes looked at each other.
"Biscuits, Ms. Orchids?" Thorn asked.
"Why, I thought you'd never ask." Willow pushed him and they made a dash to the table.
If this is what our team looks like, we're in trouble. I thought to myself.
Eleven down, TWO to go!
Here are the submitters who are Sponsors thus far. If I have your name down wrong, please let me know:
ElvenRangerRysel: 90
dreams and desperation: 89
Mystical Pine Forest: 77
HufflePuffleJay: 68
faceless eater aka slendergirl: 62
jayman1919: 62
We're All Okay: 56
Rina-The-Fangirl: 56
Wolfie McCoy: 56
caitiebug007: 53 (Devon Cynthia Rose, District Five Female)
Here are the submitters, who have points, but haven't confirmed whether they want to Sponsor or not:
The Rsce: 71
Jotunheim Storm: 59
CreativeAJL: 53
InfiniteDespair: 53
MushtcheNinja29: 53
grimbutnotalways: 53
Here are the submitters who have not reviewed (If I don't know you're reading, I may kill your tribute(s). Just saying) (and I like your tributes, so don't let them down now!):
superepicstarkette1211
If you are on none of these lists, you are probably a non-submitter, and I have not included your name because I haven't seen a review in a while. If you'd like to be on any of these lists, let me know. Remember everyone, your donations can save lives!
Alliances!:
Careers: Marcus (1), Malaya (1), Mason (2), Cassia (2), and Esmeralda (4).
Children of Amber: Thorn (11), and Willow (11).
Loners who will likely get alliances eventually:
Cordin (3)
Infiniti (3)
Jasper (4)
Darius (5)
Devon (5)
Aran (6)
Jetta (6)
Logan (7)
Kenzi (7)
Henry (8)
Tulle (8)
Thanatos (9)
Harvest (9)
Denny (10)
Cheyenne (10)
Questions!:
Thoughts on our first outer-district Alliance?:
Thoughts on Crysta?:
Which D11 tribute did you like more?:
Is there anything that you don't understand and would like me to clear up for you? (Note: If it will come up later in the story, like Blue's mother suddenly appearing, I won't clear that up yet):
Catch the reference?:
Happy Hunger Games,
Lord Zagreus
