Warning: There's some bad language. It just seemed to suit the character.


Hatchet Kowalski, District 7

"And I am a writer, a writer of fictions

I am the heart that you call home

And I've written pages upon pages

Trying to rid you from my bones."

The Decemberists, The Engine Driver


Nathaniel Bloom thought that he was the worst kind of tribute.

Despite trying to distance himself from the Hunger Games as much as possible, Nate knew more about them than any other victor from his district. He knew that there were two types of tribute. There were the killers and the innocents who became killers.

In all Nate's years of being forced to watch the games, while he'd seen his parents' grisly murders acted out both on and by his own tributes, nothing had disturbed Nate more than watching Sean Aspen behead another boy in his sleep. It wasn't that it had been particularly long or gruesome. Just one slice and Kohlrabi from District 11 was dead.

But what had chilled Nate to the bone was that the killer had been Sean. Sweet Sean. Kind Sean. Somewhere, inside that shy boy who'd spent all his free time writing letters and drawing pictures of plants, there'd been a killer.

It had been hard for Nate to come to terms with there being a killer in everyone. Some people needed an arena to bring the killer out. Some people just needed to see another person's life to feel the urge to destroy it. Most people were somewhere in between.

Few people in Panem were completely innocent. It was the one thing couldn't be bought by a victor's fortune, the one thing that every victor lacked.

Apart from Nate.

Nate's childhood innocence was as butchered as his parents' bodies when he'd found them but he'd never hurt anyone. Every other victor had. He was the only one still clinging to the scraps of innocence he had left, even at the age of seventy-four.

When Nate saw the boy - Hatchet Kowalski - at the reaping, he knew that this boy was one of the few. Wide-eyed, trembling, skinny but not malnourished. He'd probably never harmed anyone in his life.

Either he'd die or the arena would twist him into a killer. Either way, he'd lose his innocence. He'd never be able to get that back.


Norah Blossom thought that he was a respectful and kind boy.

"Would you like to form an alliance with me?" Hatchet asked Norah's tribute, Greenery. The train had only just started moving.

Greenery, a tall, muscular girl, took one look at Hatchet and shook her head.

"That's okay," Hatchet said, kindly. "I imagine that with muscles like yours, I'd feel confident enough to win the Hunger Games alone."

Greenery allowed herself a small smile.

"Got any skills?"

Hatchet picked up a paper napkin and folded it into the shape of a crane.

"For you," he handed the crane to Greenery.

"Is that your only skill?" Greenery asked, one eyebrow raised. "You can't kill someone with a paper cut."

"Who says anything about killing someone?" Hatchet said. "I believe that the pen is mightier than the sword. I will not kill anyone this games. I only want to share my art with the world while I have a chance."

Greenery laughed. "Okay, tree-hugger. You'd better start sharing that art quick because you are doomed."

Norah decided that that wasn't a very respectful or kind thing to say. It was true that Hatchet was probably going to die but at least Norah had the decency not to upset the boy by saying it aloud. Even Blight, who wasn't usually very good at being respectful and kind, was staying silent.

He looked like he had a very nasty headache. Maybe Norah would offer him a painkiller.


Sean Aspen thought that the kid knew what he was doing.

"What's your biggest secret?" Caesar Flickerman asked Hatchet.

"I am in love with a woman," Hatchet answered.

"I am in love with a woman who's a million miles away but always in my line of sight.

"I am in love with a woman with treasure in her eyes and silver at her feet.

"I am in love with a woman who shines like a diamond but hides behind curtains as green as the pine forests.

"I am in love with a woman who bottles up sorrows and keeps them on her windowsill.

"I am in love with a woman who I can find in every book I read but gets lost between the pages every time I blink.

"I am in love with a woman who danced with death and left him begging to hold her close again.

"I am in love with a woman. I wish I could tell her."

The audience all let out a collective sigh. Sean couldn't help but smile. If his romance with Acacia had won him sponsors, despite his shyness, then Hatchet's mysterious crush coupled with his strange confidence on the stage was sure to make him incredibly popular.

Sean knew that unpopular tributes rarely won. The gamemakers wanted to tell a compelling story every year. In giving a good interview, Hatchet Kowalski was taking up the pen and starting to make the story his own.


Bernard Barkley thought that he was a long shot at best.

It was hard for him to keep up with the games this year. Twig was so young, so desperate for his father's attention. Bernard couldn't let his son watch the bloodbath. He'd have to learn how the tributes from his district fared from Sean.

Greenery had died in the bloodbath, having succeeded in taking a Career down with her. Hatchet had escaped with nothing.

One night, after putting Twig to bed, Bernard sat down in front of the TV and tuned into the Hunger Games. Hatchet was curled up in a tree, quietly reciting a poem to himself. A silver parachute floated down and landed in the branches near Hatchet.

Inside the box was a coil of rope. Hatchet picked it up with careful hands...

And the camera cut to the Career camp where four of the five Careers who'd survived the bloodbath slept. The boy from One, Silver, was still awake and murdering his allies while they were unconscious.

Hatchet Kowalski was a long shot but he was a very lucky long shot.


Blight Greener thought that his tribute was doomed.

Hatchet's going to die next. He thought at every event. He's too soft.

But Hatchet didn't die.

Blight assumed that it was just because there was only one Career in the arena. He had no idea why Silver had suddenly decided to drug his allies and kill them in their sleep but it meant that all the outliers had a better chance at survival. Silver may have been a one-man-army but he was still only one man.

It also gave another killer a chance to emerge.

Hatchet was a trapper. He set basic snares around his hiding place to catch food and incapacitate any opponents who ventured near. Blight hated it. His ally, Nyla, had died because she'd been caught in a snare and the Careers had found her just as Blight was freeing her. Maybe if she hadn't stepped in that snare, she would've won. She would've lived.

The worst problem was that, once there was a tribute struggling in one of Hatchet's snares, the boy ran away, leaving them to wither away from hunger or thirst. The poor kid was terrified of killing someone.

Hatchet was lucky that he never had to see what happened to his victims.

Blight soon learned that the lucky ones were the ones that Silver found. He put them out of their misery with one quick, practiced stab and cut them down so the hovercraft retrieved their bodies. For someone who'd killed four allies in their sleep, the boy had a strange amount of honour.

There was something about that boy, the anger in his eyes or the bitterness in his voice, that made him stand out from the other Careers. Blight couldn't quite place what it was. Most boys from One were like Mink, all bright and smiling and confident. Enough to make Blight want to vomit. But Silver had been scowling and taciturn for his entire interview, giving little away.

He reminded Blight of himself more than he cared to admit.

Between them, Hatchet and Silver wiped out most of the competition. Blight knew that there was no way that Hatchet could outsmart Silver. The Career boy watched the ground as he walked, careful not to step in any snares.

As Silver drew close to Hatchet's hiding place, he carefully stepped over one of Hatchet's snares. Blight resigned his tribute to second place.

And then Hatchet threw something at Silver.

The mysterious object swooped through the air and right into Silver's face. The Career took a step back, on instinct.

A snare closed around his foot.

Silver cried out and dropped his sword as he was yanked up into the air. Hatchet slid down from his tree, hitting the ground before the paper aeroplane he'd thrown could flutter to the forest floor.

"Hey, Seven!" Silver called. "Don't run away. We're the last two left. Just finish the damn games."

Hatchet turned, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"It's okay," Silver's voice turned soft and gentle. "My sword is right there. You know what to do."

"I don't," Hatchet whimpered, tears brimming in his eyes. "I can't kill people."

"For fuck's sake, Seven! People starve in your traps!" Silver yelled, beginning to panic. He sounded like he was trying hard not to sound scared. "I don't want to die like that. Please... just make it quick."

Blight knew, from the terrified look in Silver's eyes, that the boy from One had run out of tricks. He also knew that this boy must've been hurt by someone in the past. Maybe even by his parents. Blight could tell that, even if they hadn't hurt their son, they hadn't helped at all. Silver was just a scared, vulnerable kid hiding behind a tough, dangerous façade. Trusting nobody.

Maybe Hatchet couldn't see it. It took one to know one, after all.

"Just one cut," Silver begged, pointing to his neck. "Right here. It'll be easy. I won't try to stop you. I'm not scared of dying. I just want it to be quick."

His voice caught, almost like he was going to break down. Blight had to remind himself that he wasn't going to cry. It was just allergies.

He wasn't supposed to cry over Careers. They'd volunteered for this, made their choice.

Even though Blight had to wonder how much choice Silver had ever had in his life.

"I just want to be free..." Silver whispered.

"Okay," Hatchet walked forwards and picked up the sword. "Be free."

He drew a swift, red line across Silver's throat and turned away. He made it about three steps before beginning to vomit. It was an undignified victory but a victory nonetheless.

Blight quietly decided that he was right. Hatchet was doomed. He was doomed to a lifetime of being a victor.

So far, none of Seven's victors had been sold to the Capitol yet. Nate was too old. Norah had been so shocked that she'd refused and lost her parents. Sean had his cute little romance with Acacia. Bernard had been married when he'd won.

As for Blight... the choice between a lifetime of prostitution or a lifetime of not having to deal with his parents was much easier than it should've been.

But he knew that it wouldn't be so easy for Hatchet. The boy had gained a reputation for being a teenage heartthrob. A sensitive pretty-boy, like Nate had been in his youth. Hatchet's only hope of escape was to reveal the identity of his mysterious muse to Panem.

And Blight knew that it would never work. He knew her name. He knew that she would always be out of Hatchet's reach.

The woman who Hatchet had written his poem about, who he claimed to be in love with, was Maia Nuñez, the victor of the 59th Hunger Games.


Hatchet Kowalski thought that he'd made a mistake.

He'd told Maia that he loved her on his victory tour. She'd laughed at him.

"You don't know me," she'd said.

But he'd always felt like he'd known her. She was an artist, just like him. A fellow lover of beauty. When she'd fought the Careers in her arena, she'd fought in a way that Hatcher had never seen before. Her body had swayed gracefully through every fight, like she was dancing.

Hatchet had never believed that someone could kill another person in such a beautiful way.

During his first year as a mentor, Hatchet realised that Maia was right. He didn't know her at all.

The Capitol women wanted him. They forced him into their beds and they demanded things from him. Stories. Poetry. Tiny gifts made of folded paper. Hatchet felt himself growing colder and emptier, his creativity and passion deserting him.

All art was about freedom and Hatchet had lost his.

Maia must've lost hers as well.

Hatchet was lucky that his tribute was allied with Maia's that year. They'd spent a lot of time together in the Control Centre, making friendly but awkward conversation. There'd been a few moments when they'd talked about dance or music or poetry that Hatchet had felt like he'd found who he'd been searching for. Then Maia had always seemed to remember something that'd troubled her and she'd become quiet and withdrawn.

The boy from Seven and the girl from Ten died minutes apart, when they were ambushed by the Careers. Hatchet and Maia left the Control Centre together, stuck in the same elevator.

"I know what they do to you," Hatchet said. "Was I like them for wanting you even though I didn't know you?"

"No," Maia said. "They want me for my body. You want me for the art. It's flattering. I'm happier being a poet's muse than a businessman's prostitute. You're a wonderful guy. I like you a lot."

"But do you love me?" Hatchet asked.

Maia shook her head. "I can't love people."

"Is it because of what they do to you?"

Maia shook her head again. "The only time I ever feel something close to passion is when I'm dancing alone. Some people just aren't supposed to dance with partners. I've been with men and women. None of them made me feel anything."

Hatchet looked across the elevator at his muse. He realised that she loved dancing more than she'd ever love any man. She'd given everything to her passion. Even her heart.

"I think I understand," Hatchet said. "Sometimes I feel the same way about poetry. I think I write my best work when I'm longing for something, like the way that the best songs always have a sliver of sadness."

"That's something I feel," Maia whispered. "This longing. For home... and freedom," She sighed. "Maybe I do love you. I just don't feel it the way other people do. Cecelia told me once about this thing called a soul, which is like this ghost that lives inside you and it's all the things that are... you. I feel like I love you but only in my soul."

Hatchet closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect all the feelings inside him into something he could articulate.

"I feel it too," he said, quietly.

They didn't kiss. They didn't embrace. Maia just reached across and, gently, squeezed his hand. For some reason, it meant more to Hatchet than anything else.

He was in love with Maia. She loved him back. It didn't matter that they lived on opposite sides of the country or that she didn't want to kiss him. There was more to their love than desire.

Maybe Hatchet had made a mistake. He knew that believing that he could survive the Hunger Games without making a single kill had been a foolish thing to believe. He still had nightmares, watching his kills wither away in the recap.

Oddly, Silver was the only one who hadn't bothered him. It wasn't because the boy from One had volunteered. It was because he'd been a tiger on a leash, constantly trapped, constantly lashing out at the world. Silver would've hated being a victor.

But loving Maia wasn't a mistake. Hatchet knew it, deep down inside. They were two halves of the same soul.


Hatchet was a hard victor for me to plan out. He has a lot in common with Nate, since they're both sensitive pacifists from District 7, but Hatchet is more artistic and a lot less traumatised. Eventually, I came up with Hatchet leaving people to starve in his snares because he just can't bring himself to kill anyone, which is a pretty horrifying way to accidentally kill people.

Silver was destined to come second (the clue's in the name). I'm going to flesh out quite a few second place tributes over a few of the remaining games, even though it has a tendency to make them cooler than the victor (I won't name names but I think we all know who I'm referring to). I've got a very strong interest in second place tributes so I'll probably write Silver's backstory and motives in another story. He's definitely one of my favourite Careers I've ever written.

Also, I think the romance between Hatchet and Maia is the first two-sided romance between victors I've written. It's likely because victors are only a small fraction of Panem's population and victors from different districts rarely get to see each other. I was originally going to have Maia and Hatchet stay just friends but I changed my mind when a connection of sorts developed between them. They're both very passionate artists.

Maia also turned out to be asexual but not aromantic, which means that she can still have a romantic relationship with Hatchet but she's not attracted to him. I've written quite a few victors who struggle with relationships but it's mostly because of trauma. I can say with complete confidence that Taia and Turbin are both asexual and aromantic. There's another victor who hasn't won yet who's demisexual.

Next chapter, we'll begin a long string of canon Careers with a victor who somehow survived the whole rebellion by... just not dying. That's right! Next up is the mighty Enobaria! I'm giving up on my first draft because I had a much cooler idea so I have no clue how long it'll take.