District 12 has improved tremendously since my parents returned to their home district, and our main industry is now medicine instead of mining. No longer is District 12 the poorest district, but we still have a small percentage of people on the outskirts depressed and still struggling from the war. They frequently visit the Hob to escape through smiling faces, encouragement, and free food. District 12 has supplied as many job as possible to decrease unemployment. The Capitol has made sure people are being fed and we have as much freedom as possible. The Hob is no more an illegal trading post and was rebuilt after Peacekeepers burned it down during the Second Rebellion, along with the homes after the bombings. Now, anyone can sell and trade items and is a respectable place for business. No longer is it a dirty, fearful place and was built much bigger than the original. Not only are there businesses inside, but it has leaked outside as well in different buildings.
When we pass these different stores, the store keepers are busy enough where we are not bombarded with ogling eyes and questions pertaining to our personal lives. For example, the questions are usually about my parents having more children or my brother and I starting our own families. The questions are intrusive because I believe they are still in the mindset that they should know everything about the beloved Victors and their children. But sometimes we just want to be left alone and be treated like everyone else.
When we walk inside the Hob, we are greeted with friendly smiles and a few 'hellos'. While Mom trades her game with a regular customer, I deliver the rest of the meat to Alex, the owner of the restaurant, where she asks if I'll help her skin the animals later on the day. I promise I will be back. Alex gives the less fortunate meals to get them back on their feet. She has a heart of gold and my soul aspires to be like hers. There are days where my mood is dark and twisted, but she helps put sunshine back in my life. The restaurant has a few employees so I assist whenever I can.
Alex and I say our goodbyes after my mother is finished with her trading; she traded the meat for more medical supplies probably because I am accident prone and we'll need more since she used it all on my scrapes. No one seems to notice my scrapes
Mom and I walk side by side to return the bags. One of us to do it ourselves, but neither of us want to be left alone. We near the gate where Jack is unsurprisingly replaced with another guard. There are separate gates for the entrance and exit. The entrance is in between where most of the homes are where the exit is right next to the Hob. They made it so it would be more convenient for the hunters to sell their game, but it sometimes isn't so convenient for some of the hunters when they have to backtrack to turn our game bags back in and then turn around and return home the same direction they came. For Mom and me, it's all in the same direction. Which I'm grateful for because I really don't want to see the same strangers twice in one day. I can only handle a certain amount of awkward conversation in one day.
You'd think we would run out of things to shoot, but our district not only has a vast wooded area, but we have also decided it would be best if we had certain months to hunt. During the winter is the time we save our energy and don't hunt. It is also dangerous for the hunters since there is not concrete footing. In the middle of spring would be commencement of open season. There are very few selected during the spring so we don't run out of game since the animals are getting reacquainted with the area. I am one of those people who hunt during the spring along with my mom; there is maybe one or two more people. And, of course we build a huge stock of meat during all of the seasons so we don't run out of food during the winter.
Fall is my favorite season. The air becomes crisp and it is the best time to hunt since it's almost impossible to become overheated when you're trying to track animals. Until you become prey yourself by a large, wild cat. Fortunately, this hasn't happened to me, and hopefully it never will. I become excited about fall and the beautiful colors it brings along.
Lost in my excited thoughts, I barely notice two hunters carrying a dead deer. They are proud of their accomplishment and I wouldn't normally be bothered, but it is the same baby doe that I wouldn't shoot only an hour or so ago. Since the rest of their game is gone, they are most likely keeping the deer for themselves. Ager flash floods my system and my hands clench tightly onto my game bag. I am not angry because they are keeping the meat for their personal use because that is not illegal nor is it frowned upon. You can keep a certain amount of your game as long as you sell, trade, or donate a good amount so everyone can eat. I am furious because they killed this baby animal that was not able to live its life yet. We could have had more meat to feed more people after its babies had grown up. That would have easily been three or four deer in total that could have nourished a lot of people.
"Careful," my mom warns me. She is not as upset as I am.
As they pass us to take it home, I try to hold my tongue, but I fail. "Did you enjoy killing a baby deer?"
I don't think I have ever spoken to these people, but I do recognize them. Their names have slipped my mind.
"Do you enjoy killing their parents?" One of them backfires.
"You know very well that we learn the families to know which babies are capable to live on their own," which is true, I am not lying. One of our training lessons is to know the different deer families and if they have babies that are still dependent on their parents. We learn their features, colorings, etc. It takes a lot of practice, and we have been warned to grow attached to them. It is a hard task to not only study these families, but to not grow attached as well. I can be an emotional person towards animals so I had to learn to keep work separated from my heart.
"The baby was by itself so it was dependent."
"It was scared. I was about to shoot it but I realized it was scared because her mother was nowhere to be found. You were probably hunted the baby after hunting its mom."
"Baby deer are also told by the mother to stay put and it does just that until she comes back. It was wandering on its own, so, fair game."
"Maybe if you hadn't spooked it, it would've stayed."
They shrugged their shoulders, "meat is meat."
"But it hadn't lived yet. You hunted that baby deer that is now not able to have babies of its own or even grow up. How are we supposed to hunt if you keep killing the babies that haven't been able to reproduce? Selfish," My mouth spits out and I turn away from them.
I don't let them respond and I start walking away with my mom right beside me.
"You should've just let it be," she says as we near the entrance gate.
I don't reply to her either as we walk into the entrance to put away our game bags in a bin so they can be washed. I feel like I needed to protect that young deer by not shooting it, but I killed it anyway.
"Willow, look at me," she quietly demands as she suddenly stops as we start our way to the bakery. I do as she says with tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I'm still so angry, and I can't seem to shake it away.
She gently cups my shoulders with one hand and the other is placed on my cheek, "I've learned, very painfully, that things happen and you can't save everyone and everything. People and things die, and you can't control it. I understand why you're upset, but they're trying to do their job even though not everyone may agree it."
"By forgetting about other's lives?"
"You can't teach them about it, Willow. They'll only ignore you."
"When you were my age, you were about to lead a revolution. You taught a lot of people about the wrongness of the Hunger Games. They listened to you! Surely, I can teach people the same. Mama, I feel like I should be doing something more than hunting and baking. I should be… I don't know… something."
"Be very grateful that you did not have to go through the Rebellion and the war and the death."
Mom takes her hands back and begins to walk towards the bakery again.
"I am grateful," I whisper. I think she hears me because I hear her heave a loud sigh in response.
"Rosey!" I hear my father exclaim happily. It's so good to see him in his normal, cheery self. Rye and I aren't really scared of him, but his episodes can become violent sometimes.
Smiling widely, I give him a big hug and try not to wince as my shoulder wound threatens to rip apart again.
"How was hunting this morning?" He asks.
"It was fine. Got plenty of food for Alex. I'm going back later to help her, you know, make food out of it," I reply as I set down my bow and arrow in the back when I follow him. Mom will probably tell him what happened earlier with the baby deer.
"Your mom told me about your accident yesterday," I raise an eyebrow towards her direction but she pays no attention as she shreds pieces of a cheese bun, "but your injuries don't look too bad."
I did decide this morning to wear a short sleeved shirt in order to hunt; it was way too hot today to have arms layered so my cuts are out for everyone to see. "No, but I do have a cut on my shoulder that will probably leave a scar."
"A bad ass scar," Rye comments and we both smile mischievously at one another. Our parents ignore us. My twin walks out of the kitchen and outside to the pile of flour bags sitting outside the door.
"Your mom is just a worry-wart. Just be sure to keep putting medicine on it."
"I know, I will," I grab myself a cheese bun before Mom eats them all.
Rye walks back inside carrying a huge sack of flour on his shoulder. "You know you'll forget to put medicine on it. You want that scar to show off. Tell people you go into a fight with a bear or something. Think about how many questions you'll get when you go swimming in the lake with your friends." His blond hair is sprinkled with flour and his grays are stormy with light blue lightning strikes. He inherited Mom's gray eyes, but he always has that glint in them that makes him look way more mysterious than he really is; he's an open book and he is a horrible liar. Rye's a total sweetheart, but you definitely don't want to piss him off.
"You're totally right. I wonder if I could get a nice hunk of a man to marry so we can both be bad asses together. Show off my scar in a wedding dress," I bite off a huge chunk of my snack.
"You know, I think you're onto something," he wipes off beads of sweat that are streaming along face with a spare towel.
Our parents are still trying to ignore us, but they're smirking gives it away that they are amused.
"Hey, Rye, are you going to teach me how to make those mini-cakes today?"
"They're called cupcakes, and yeah if you still want me to."
"Maybe tomorrow would be a better day, guys. We have to bake a wedding cake today. Remember, Rye?" Dad interjects.
Rye's eyes give me an apology, "Yeah, I remember. Tomorrow, Willow?" I nod in agreement, kind of disappointed.
They start preparing to make the cake which is vanilla. Not my favorite, but still delicious. I do help them mix the ingredients, surprisingly not messing anything up, and pour the liquid into pans. I don't pay attention to what my parents and Rye are doing since I am absorbed making sure I don't blunder everything. Afterwards, Rye and I sneak our fingers into the batter and peak at each other playfully. We are five again running around while our father bakes as he gives us the bowls as a treat and still stealing sweet behind his back.
Our parents leave the kitchen, leaving us alone to clean the bowls with our fingers and sweet tooth.
"Can I ask you a serious question, Rye?"
"Uh-oh. What's on your mind?"
"Do you ever feel like you should be doing something more with your life besides doing these, kind of, monotonous thing: hunting, baking. Sometimes I feel constrained and should be doing more."
He looks at me with a perplexed mixed with surprised expression, "Yeah, I guess so. Happening ore lately? Maybe our twin telekinesis is kicking in again," I give him a slight nudge on his shoulder, "I don't know, Willow. But our parents need us here so we should what we can to help."
"I wasn't saying I'm wanting to move away. Just asking if you feel the same way I do."
He nods as he starts to place the dishes in the sink. I'm about to help him after I lick another finger topped with cake batter, but the phone begins to ring. Waiting a few seconds, I realize our parents aren't in the building. So, I step out to the front of the store and pick up the phone.
"Mellark Bakery, this is Willow."
"Willow," a familiar woman's voice rings in my ear, "It's Aunt Johanna."
"Auntie! I miss you!"
"I miss you too, kid. Listen, is your mom or dad around? I really need to speak with them."
"I think they're around here somewhere. Hold on, let me check outside."
I walk outside and notice that my parents are at the side planting some flowers and watering them. They smile at me as I walk towards them, "Hey, Aunt Johanna is on the phone."
They look at each other, smiles fading and worry dominates their expression. I know what they're thinking: Aunt Johanna never calls here unless it's an emergency. The only time she has called the bakery to get in contact is when she miscarried when I was very young. She then stayed with us for about a month because she didn't want to go back to strict therapy.
Mom hurries to grab the phone.
"What do you think has happened, Dad?" I ask him as he stands up as well, sweeping off dirt from his pants with his hands.
"I don't know, love. We'll find out soon," and he follows Mom back inside. I then follow him to find out what's happening.
I wish there is a way to listen in to the call. Unfortunately, there is only one phone for the bakery. I hope it's nothing serious and that Auntie was worried because no one was picking up at home. No, she knows we are always busy during the day and the best time to call is during the evening. With how Mom looks furious with her face now ashen with whatever information Aunt Johanna is giving her. Dad looks sick with worry. Rye seek answers by giving me an inquisitive expression and I give him a look back to say I know as much as he does.
The phone is finally hung up, quite angrily I notice, and I don't want to ask what's happening. Mom looks too pissed off. Turns out I don't have to ask what Aunt Johanna has said, because Mom informs us anyway. I almost have to ask her to repeat what she says, because I couldn't have heard her right. But the way everyone else reacts, I hear her correctly.
She says, "There is going to be another Hunger Games. They are announcing who is going to be pooled into it tonight."
Hey, guys! I've decided to post every Wednesdays now instead of randomly posting. Please review and tell me what you think about the story so far. I gladly take any criticism. Thank you and see you next Wednesday!