Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
She slipped out of the house while her mother was busy manhandling her bazillion brats and headed out to the fields for a quiet place since the reaping wasn't until one.
Although no one had to work today the beasts still had to be seen to and there were a few men in the fields feeding and seeing to them. She clambered over the fence and headed out across the rolling slope. She couldn't go too far today – or get in too much of a mess – but she knew where she could go.
It was a small brook a little way back from most of the fields, bubbling up through the rock. She hung her feet into it, lay back in the grass, and opened her book to pass the time.
Images of the reaping and parade flickered and flashed behind her eyes. She squeezed them shut, shook her head, and tried to focus on the words of her book.
'May the odds be ever in your favour!'
She jumped and nearly tore her page.
It's not real, she tried to remind herself, it's not, it's not real, not yet.
Normally there were a few fairies and a little ghost girl that liked to come play here, but today there was nothing.
Perhaps it was too late in the day. They preferred dusk to dawn.
Fifty eight.
Fifty seven.
Fifty six.
BOOM!
This time she did shoot up.
A huge part of one of the cattle barns a way off had just exploded outwards, smoke trailing into the air. She blinked. What caused that then? It wasn't her this time.
Was it?
She tucked her book into her jacket and scrambled to her feet, snatching up her boots to go investigate.
Five cows came charging towards her before she even got halfway. She jumped aside, growling in warning, glancing around herself to check where the rest of the herd was. None were too close.
Closer to the barn the stench of smoke was in the air and there were two men and more than that bovine bodies on the ground, bloody and twisted and broken. The barn was well and truly alight.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked the nearest fieldhand.
He frowned at her. "You can clear off. Was probably you started it."
"Why would I hurt the cows?" she snapped back. Cows were fine; cows were better than humans. He said nothing and she swept away.
It was half eleven already, so she better go register. As she climbed back over the fence to the road she spotted four Peacekeepers at the head of a line of boys.
Her stomach lurched.
That would be the boys from the prison.
If she waited five minutes-
But they wouldn't let her speak with him anyway. She headed away at a brisk pace, still swinging her boots in one hand.
There was already a line for entering the square. She slipped in place behind a tall blonde girl. Beyond the desks and check-ins she could see the stage that had been erected in the square.
A hand tugged at her sleeve. She growled and glanced down to find a small red haired girl.
"You should probably put your shoes on."
She frowned at the boots in her hand and grunted an agreement. The girl hurried away.
Awkwardly, she pulled her boots on while she was still in line. At the other side of the square she could see the prisoners being led in by the peacekeepers and taken to a separate line. He was easy to spot, towering above the others, even the Peacekeepers, by a head and standing slightly apart from the others.
It was so tempting to run to him, but she couldn't.
Probably they'd shoot her.
Finally she reached the front of the line to give her name and stick her hand out. The purple haired woman pricked her finger, took her fingerprints, and waved her through.
"Seventeens second from the back."
She nodded as though she hadn't done this five times already.
Those were never her time though.
BREAK
The prisoners were penned into a separate area with red rope. He scanned the square, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but there were too many teenagers here already and she was camouflaged amongst the crowd.
A few of the boys in the eighteens pen near them edged away, eyeing them warily. He smiled, all teeth. Let them be afraid.
More teens filtered in, though they didn't come close to filling out the reaping pens. The posters around the square screamed 'DO YOUR DUTY FOR YOUR NATION!'
By what?
Dying?
Finally, the last of the teens were registered. The huge screen at the front of the square flickered to life, displaying the District Ten seal. They were probably still registering teens at the main town.
They waited impatiently and uncomfortably in the heat. At last the seal split open to change to an image of District Ten's Mayor, stood on stage in the main square with the freakshow that was their escort, Cornelius St Clarance.
"We're back around to that esteemed time of the year," droned the Mayor. He tuned out, looking out over the square again to search for her. He had a half-brother here somewhere as well she'd told him. Very annoying little brat, apparently.
"We must show thanks and repentance to the glorious Capitol for their great and powerful leadership," continued the Mayor.
With her precious brat here their mother was probably somewhere in the square watching. He did spot her after a few tries, locating her on the right with a whole horde of kids. She had been right. There was a disgusting amount of children. Do your duty indeed.
The Mayor droned on with the story of the rebellion, and finished up with our need to thank the Capitol for their generosity and kindness, before handing off to St Clarance for the yearly video. Images of a war-torn Panem flashed across the screen. But what happened to the rest of it? There was land out there, outside the Districts! Ten didn't border another District; the coyotes didn't sneak in here through Twelve! No; there was land out there, outside the Districts, outside the Capitol's rules, and that was where they should be running free.
Cornelius St Clarance waddled out onto stage. His pudgy belly was nearly exploding from his slick blue jacket.
"Ah, good afternoon boys and girls."
Not one person in the main square replied.
"It's good to see so many young faces! Some new ones, some old ones I'm sure. And everyone else watching!" He gave a pathetic little wave to the camera.
He really wished he'd just get on with it.
"Happy Hunger Games to you all! Now, we'll do the boys first this year I think."
He tended to switch it off every year: it was his thing.
He watched as St Clarance waddled over to the boy's bowl. The podium it stood on had had to be lowered in order for him to reach.
He dipped his hand inside, swirling it around.
The boys around him waited.
The District held its breath.
"The boy who will have the honour of representing District Ten this year will be…" He made a great show of unfolding the slip – or maybe he really was struggling with his fat stubby fingers. "Hyperion Ripley!"
It's not not a surprise, if that made any sense.
He had had the prior warning.
He searched the crowd as he stepped to the front of his pen. One of the Peacekeepers moved to move the rope and let him out, leading him up to the stage. His eyes finally found her, stood amongst the seventeen year old girls, her arms wrapped around something under her jacket and her pale eyes fixed on him.
He said nothing.
"Ah, yes, there you are Hyperion," St Clarence said from the main stage. "I'm sure we'll meet soon. Now, let's find out who's going with you."
He hoped against what he knew was about to happen.
She watched as he climbed those steps to stand next to the Peacekeeper he towered over on stage. His clothes didn't fit right, she noticed, they matched.
Cornelius St Clarence swirled his fat little fingers around the girls' reaping bowl. She watched as he finally plucked one out like some prized pig and waddled back to the microphone, stumbling over a loose floorboard on the way.
Exactly as she saw.
He unfolded the slip slowly, but she was already moving towards the aisle, girls moving out her way.
She knew what he was about to say.
"The girl who will have the honour of representing District Ten along with Hyperion this year will be…" He undid the last fold with a flourish. "Luciente Ripley!"
Exactly as she saw.
She stepped out of the rope corral and strode up towards the stage as the Peacekeepers were still moving towards her, quickly scurrying up the steps and launching herself into his arms.
Play nice for the camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the Ninety Fourth Hunger Games! Hyperion Ripley and Luciente Ripley!"
