I will always remember who the enemy is.

Johanna Mason

District Seven Mentor

Every reaping day is the same. The same mood in the square, always. I used to only pay attention to Seven and career districts, but that changed after Little Miss Star-Crossed Lovers. If only she could've remembered who the enemy was. Instead, she ran off with Haymitch and both of them were killed by the careers. Couldn't she have at least tried to stay alive? Idiot girl. But then, maybe she was still sad after she shot Peeta. But it was a whole year, how could she still have been upset? And she's the one who chose to shoot him.

One hour until the escort arrives, one and a half hours until the reaping. I'd say three hours until we're off to the Capitol, and I have to mentor some more stupid kids. My mind flicks back to my second games, in the clock arena. Tick tock, tick tock. I somehow can't seem to forget the ticking clock. Today the clock is ticking towards the deaths of more kids. Poor kids. I've been in their situation, maybe District Seven will have a victor this year. Depends who we get. I look at the clock on the wall. Tick tock, tick tock. Five minutes have passed. I grab a glass of water, letting the cool liquid rush down my throat. Water is something I need, and I don't like remembering the days with no water in the arenas.

I head out the door for the walk to the centre of the district, a good half hour from the victors village if you're fast. The walk is long and quiet, and thank whoever the hell for that. I can't deal with other people today. The pine trees growing around me smell sweet, a constant reminder of home. Even though it hasn't felt like home for over ten years, ever since I became a victor, the victor. And then there's mentoring….. Not something I like thinking about. What I enjoy thinking about is how Snow is dead.

A bit like that victor from Eleven, I never liked to think of him as President Snow. Wyllow, I think she's called. Wyllow Cane. She reminds me of Little Miss Star-Crossed-Lovers, actually. I wonder what she's doing now. Maybe she's also walking to the reaping, digging her feet into the dirt track. If that's what it's like in Eleven. I don't remember it from either of the victory tours.

As I walk, everyone avoids me. No one wants to be associated with victors these days. I remind myself of the fact I don't want their company, the Capitol takes everyone I love. Dirt path beneath my feet turns to paving as I reach the central town of the district. As I enter the town square, I glance at the clock. It's a few minutes until the reaping starts. I make my way up to the stage, taking my seat next to our escort, Evangelos.

He shoots me a glare. I smirk at him. He looks absolutely disgusted. The people of District Seven are already filling the square. Kids, younger than twelve, older than fifteen, and in between. Tick tock, tick tock. The people seem to never end, until they finish entering the square, and definitely over five hundred kids waiting for their fate to be decided by someone pulling names out of a bowl.
The mayor stands to begin his speech.
"People of District Seven, welcome to the reaping ceremony. Today is a day of many things, hope and vengeance…." I tune out, because the mayor's stupid speech is something I've heard every year. There's only so many times you can hear the Treaty of Treason without yawning. I straighten up in my seat, and turn my gaze to the children who's lives are on the line this year. Child upon child stares back at me, some of them curious, some of them distracted, all of them petrified of what could happen to them. Finally, the mayor seems to be done with his speech, and I glance at the clock again. One hour ten minutes until I predicted we'd leave the district. Tick tock, tick tock. I'm watching a clock.

I'm dragged out of my mind by Evangelos standing next to me, walking to the front of the stage, and, I assume, smiling at the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," He says in his overly dramatic manner. "I shall now draw the names of District Seven's tributes in the 86th Hunger Games." He struts over to one of the reaping bowls. On the back is a label reading "girls". He reaches one hand into the bowl and carefully selects a slip, before pulling it out with a flourish. Tick tock, tick tock. Then he unfolds it, reading out the name on the slip of paper. "Becca Roberts!" I search the crowd for someone showing signs of fear. But instead I see a girl striding forward, her face almost determined. Maybe I got a fighter this year. But she's only fifteen, and that's not good for any chances she might have.

She climbs the steps to the stage, and as she reaches the top of the stage, just for a second, she smiles at me. Maybe she wants to make a good impression, or maybe it's just the way she is, and yet I can't help liking this girl. Becca, her name is. Becca Roberts. Somehow I can imagine the Capitol cheering her name, like they cheered my name when I came out for my final interviews. The little girl from District Seven. Could she win? With that look of determination, I think my answer is yes.

"Now, gentlemen, it's your turn." Evangelos moves to the other bowl, and reaches for a slip. I watch, like I do every year, as he moves his hand ever so slowly, searching for a slip. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, this is a clock.

Make them pay.

Cypress Rasmussen, 18
District Seven Male

If I could bring them back, I would. If I could bring them back at the cost of my own life, I would. But that's not something I can do. Instead, I only have photos of them. Autumn smiling and watching our sister when she was ten. Winter looking utterly defeated after failing to climb that one tree in our backyard when he was eight. Blossom planting flowers. Woody setting up a bonfire. It's better to remember them in the photos than their final moments, dead in the arena. I stash the photos back in their cupboard.

The house is too quiet, like it always is on reaping day, but quieter. It gets quieter every time we lose someone. I find myself remembering the days when Blossom and Woody were still around, even if we'd lost Autumn and Winter. Blossom was the most cheerful of us all. She could always cheer us up when we were feeling down, when we had to watch our siblings die. I think losing her hit my parents the hardest. She was definitely the heart of the family, the last two years have been empty, and the last year even emptier without Woody. But life goes on, and even without them it's had it's moments.

Mother and Father and Aunt Maple are already up, a small breakfast on the table, but all of them are silent, like they have been all week. All month. All year.

"Morning." I say. I don't get a response, although I wasn't really expecting one. No one says anything throughout breakfast, throughout the morning. I can't say what it is, but something seems, off in some way. Something doesn't seem right. Maybe it's the fact it's reaping day. I glance out of the window, at the one tree none of us could ever climb. It was hit by lightning two months ago, but it's still standing. Winter always hated that tree the most – he felt threatened by it, or something like that. Then my mind flashes to his final resting place, a crevasse in a forest, looking almost peaceful. Apart from his missing head. Normally I don't remember him from this, but maybe it's the reaping.

The dirt path is dusty and full of people, and yet the centre of the street is empty, everyone pressed to the sides. It confuses me for a second I spot our only living victor, Johanna Mason, meandering along the path, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention to anything apart from the clock. For a second it doesn't make any sense, then I remember the reruns of her second games. The clock arena. I wonder if that's what my siblings would be like if they survived. We fall behind most of the crowd, and that means I can't help but notice the place us kids used to play when we were young and carefree. Smiling and happy and alive. My mind flashes to more dead siblings. Autumn being held underwater until she drowned, Blossom with a knife in her skull, Woody bleeding out onto the jungle floor. It's not a happy thing to think about.

We draw closer to the square, in a group of some of the stragglers. That's where the family parts, me going to the crowd of children, them to streets outside the square. I get a lot of looks from the people around me, but no one talks to me. I can see in their faces their sympathy, and their happiness it wasn't their siblings, cousins. That's the way of the games. The Capitol couldn't care less about the families.

"Welcome, all of you, to the reapings of the 86th Hunger Games. Today, we celebrate the morning of the Capitol's victory over the Districts of Panem." He says, before continuing his talk on the Capitol's 'Victory and kindness'. Victory and kindness my ass. If the Capitol is kind, I don't know what mean looks like. "Now, Evangelos will draw the names."

Our escort stands and smiles widely at all of us. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," He says. "I shall now draw the names of District Seven's tributes in the 86th Hunger Games." He makes his way over to one of the bowls, and pulls out a slip, holding it up as he reads the name. "Becca Roberts!" A girl starts to walk almost immediately, and we turn to watch. She seems almost confident. Roberts. I remember Briar Roberts, a tribute in the 83rd Hunger Games. She lost someone too. May she survive for her family. They shouldn't lose someone else. "Now, gentlemen, it's your turn." Evangelos reaches for another slip. "Cypress Rasmussen!"

I can hear my family screaming, that the last child of theirs is reaped. My mind is screaming too. I don't believe this, another one. Another Rasmussen in the games. This time I'll make sure they're shouting my name at the end of the games. But until then, I'll settle for destroying the careers. Their districts killed my siblings, so I'll kill them. Revenge will be sweet.

I make my way up to the stage, slowly staring down our escort. He glares back at me. It almost makes me smile.

Looking out over the people in the crowd is an…odd feeling. A few are smiling at me, hopeful smiles that I might win, because I am stronger than the average District Seven tribute. Maybe we won't lose two tributes this year. That's my promise to District Seven.

I turn to Becca, and reach out to shake her hand. She meets my eyes, and I can see her determination. She'd make a good ally. No tears are shed, neither of us want to show our weakness. Weakness will not get me allies. Weakness will not get me out of the arena alive. Weakness will get me killed in the bloodbath, and that isn't something I will let happen.

Evangelos focuses on the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District Seven!"

So that was the District Seven reaping. These were very interesting characters to write, with Johanna being a pre-established character in canon and Cypress having lost all four of his siblings, and I would like to thank Very New To This for submitting Cypress and Leafpool8788 for submitting Becca. We are a third of the way through the reapings, and we have over half the spots filled, which is amazing!