Brendan "Bran" Reeves, 18 - District Ten Male

I don't like not having something to do with myself. Especially when I remember things that I don't want to.

So when I remember those things, I go out and finish up my chores.

My parents are known in Ten as one of the rich, old money families. Old money! Our name's supposed to be coated with prestige and wealth, the family that everyone else wants to be - well, except for the ones above us as well. When I think of my name, I don't think much of it - it's just a name, and a plain one at that. I don't mind it. But when labourers in the parts of Ten that I've never been to hear it, they might think of what I might be like. They'd work so much hard than I ever could to even earn a fraction of what I have at my fingertips.

I suppose my mother tried to buck the trend by marrying my father - marrying a labourer isn't heard of often in whatever class we're supposed to be in - and they suffered for it. My parents only let them keep this bit of land because my father took our mother's name - if not, we'd be penniless. But my father was humble enough to think of his children's future, and we have this farm all to ourselves as a result.

We'd probably be able to afford labourers - we could afford a whole other ranch if one of the kids that my grandparents like best asked for it. But I'm glad we don't - I don't like being pushed up anymore above the rest of Ten that I already am.

It's nice to pretend that we're just as well off as the rest of Ten - it's a pipe dream, considering that most of them live in tiny apartments or homes and then are carted off to the fields or factories every morning by truck - and it's a bit easier to think of it that way when it's just us here.

Even if it's a lie.

But the district knows that it's no better at the top, I think as I start stacking the bales of hay that our horse hasn't finished off to put back in the barn. Even we have our own secret sorrows, our worries, our fears.

We've lost those we love.

I miss Friday.

The flames - the fire - the fight - the fear - the fine, fine feeling of the wind of my face when I claw through - the window and into fresh air - and no Friday, he's gone now, my mother whispered into my red-raw ear - the house, folding into itself with one fell swoop - the loss of everything, even the only one I thought was invincible - everything just… gone.

And then it was given back as if we had earned it, even though we didn't. We didn't we shouldn't have, not after we lost him.

I brace my shoulders and lean into the rest of the bales, then grab a pitchfork. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to still have him here. He'd be twenty now - maybe he'd get married, settle down…

And that's as far as my daydreams go. It hurts too much to think of it - that's why I sneak out at night. I drown my everything in the town, in the faded lights and the teens who don't know who I am.

That's why I look - that's why I look for Ronin.

My family doesn't know it, but I take my daydreams a few steps further. You see, I can look like a labourer when I want to as well as wanting to be one.

It comes in handy.

Urie Garcia, 15 - District Ten Female

I can't imagine what it would be like, not being at the ranch.

It's my whole life.

My family is lucky - after working through long nights and long days, praying, praying, praying for a lucky break while his fingers only got more and more worn and his back hunched over even further, my father was promoted to manager of the ranch that we work on. It's a good life for him - he doesn't have to work himself to death outside, and we have enough money to eat comfortably. We're able to eat meat more than twice a week, and we can invite people over for dinner and still have food to spare if we're lucky.

Yes, it's a good life.

"Urie, head over to that side of the pasture to make sure that they don't get any ideas. You know how they get into the river when they get the chance!" Benson calls, pointing to his left at the group of cattle that are ambling towards the deep part of the river.

I grimace, thinking of what'll happen if they do get in. Most times, we just grab them and pull them out with a rope - but sometimes we have to swim them back out, and other times the river's grip is too strong and our arms too weak to pull them out. "I'll be sure to."

I don't like losing cattle - not when I'm so new to this.

I don't want others to view me as the weakest link here.

I guide my palomino to the side of the river with a gentle squeeze, whispering into her mane. "Now that's a good girl, Misty, let's move towards that group. We'll scare them back to the group where they can feed. Grass is sometimes greener on our side, you know?"

She nickers in understanding and canters towards the group, giving them a stern warning. One of the cattle moos belligerently at us, but it moves with the rest of the group back to the main herd. They're good cattle, they are - it's just that sometimes they want more than what they can have.

That's why we're here.

We meander through the pasture, following the trail of the cattle. It's relaxing to just sit with Misty and watch the cattle graze - it's a nice way to spend the day, with a horse and a stretch of green in front of us. I wonder if anyone else sometimes feels the need to gallop through the pasture just to see how far it goes, to see how much there is before they reach the end, to see how far they could go. I do, at least I think I do, but I know I won't. I'm too sensible for that.

After all, I wouldn't want to do something stupid here. If we're not productive enough or if someone leaves the perimeters of the ranch or if too many cattle die, the peacekeepers get called in to investigate - and that's never good.

And it's a good life here.

I wouldn't mess it up for anything.

And that is my last reaping! I am FINISHED! Now, we wait for Shiro and LCS to finish Eleven and Twelve, and we will finally move into the Capitol! :D

Brendan: Short straight black hair, pale blue eyes and freckles. He has pale skin. He stands about 6'2, and he's pretty lanky and long. He has a scar under his left eye from an accident when he was younger. (Its large and fairly visible)

Urie: (5'5") Latina. Stocky from working on a farm all her life. Short black hair that is curly and almost always messy with lots of fly-aways because of horseback riding. Brown skin, sort of pimply because she's a teen, thick toned arms and legs, big feet, has a perpetually confused or "thinking" face (frowning, mouth curled open, at least one eyebrow up).

Enjoy the chapter! I'll see you once we've finished the train rides. Have a great day! - JAJ