A/N: Hey guys. I'm sorry this update's so late, but my life is becoming increasingly hectic, and I'm barely finding time to write this. From this point on, I'll probably be updating way less often. But I'm not giving up on this story. Promise.

Quinn Jennings, District 6 Tribute

The edible plants section isn't extremely welcoming, what with the grim-faced trainer and the piles of spiky, extremely inedible looking herbs. But the weapons stations are out of the question. The Careers are a grim looking sort, and I definitely don't want to evoke their wrath. So plants it is.

"What's this one?" I ask the trainer curiously, fiddling with a spiky green leaf. For the first time, a flicker of a smile lights up the trainer's sullen face. "It's wood nettle. It gives you rashes."

I yelp and drop it.

After that, I decide to move on.

The snare station is next. The instructor there is friendlier, with a giant smile and cotton candy hair. She looks excited to have someone over here, and her enthusiasm leaks into me like she's a dripping tap. We're tying ropes and swapping jokes when the boy from eight sidles up to me with a shit-eating grin. I wince. I know what's coming.

"Do you really think this is the best time to practice your pick-up lines?" I ask him dryly. He draws back, an expression of mock shock on his face. "My dear lady! How dare you insinuate…" "Cut the crap." I mutter. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you." "Well," He says with a grin. "It's a good thing I'm here to ask you about an alliance, seeing as that might cheer you up."

I blink in surprise. "You want an alliance? With me?" "Of course!" He grins, spreading his arms open wide. "I've done a very specific evaluation of every lovely lady in the room and I've decided that you're the best fit for me. Cute and talkative." I gag. "Is that a yes?" He asks, looking hopeful. I laugh. "You know what? Sure. That's a yes." He blinks, owl like and astonished. "O-oh! Great!" I smile. "An alliance of three isn't enough, though." "Wait, what?" He asks, confused. "I've already allied with my district partner, Preston. But three isn't enough. I think four's an ideal number, how about you?"

And then I point across the room.

Gareth Barkely, District 7 Tribute

Thunk.

The axe clips the side of the target and goes spinning into the abyss. I shrug. Everyone always expects Seven tributes to be axe-masters or something. We aren't, not really. I have some practice in the axe yards, but really, I'm just a boy.

Just a boy…

A boy that's about to die.

I shudder as the venomous thoughts enter my brain, whispering in my ear, poison breath in my head. These thoughts have been coming more and more often.

I'm terrified to die.

I've thought about it a lot, how I would die. In books, it's always described as not really that painful, that it's graceful, that it's a simple swoon and then death.

I call bullshit.

I can't imagine that it doesn't hurt to have a sharp blade sifting through your insides, ripping through organ and tissue, puncturing every artery and letting blood spill freely… I'm doing it again.

Would it be by a Career? A bloody stab, a white hot flash of pain, and your last memories being of chuckles and "Nice ones!"? Would it be by a desperate, addled outlier with a sharp rock and a plagued mind? By mutts? Illness? Poison? Electrocution?

The list goes on… and on… and on.

Falling? Stampeding? Being crushed? Being choked? Being held underwater as my lungs burned and screamed for help, as my body flailed and thrashed and searched desperately for air?

There are so many ways, each one equally terrifying and painful. Will adrenaline numb it in the end, like everyone says? Or will every second be filled with indescribable pain, with agony in it's purest form?

I'm scared.

I'm so, so scared.

I retrieve my axe with a heavy heart. I'm trudging back to the station when I hear the whispers.

"He's not a very good shot."

"He's the only one who has any skill with a weapon at all!"

"We haven't seen his District partner practice with axes yet."

"That's because she's high as a kite."

"Point taken."

I blink in surprise, wondering whether I should feel flattered or offended. I twist around, shoving the axe roughly back into the pile. "If you're talking about me, do it to my face!" I yell at the chatterers- the boy from eight, the girl from six, and her district partner, who hasn't actually said a thing but is instead lurking awkwardly behind them.

The girl blinks, abashed. "You have good hearing!" She yells at me from across the room.

"Thanks!" I yell back. "My voice is getting kind of hoarse, though, could you come over here?"

"Certainly!" She yells back, and swaggers towards me, the boy from eight at her side, and the six boy lagging behind, obsessively picking at his fingernails.

"Well?" I ask. "Care to make your statements to my face?" She grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet, freckled face shining with glee. "Want to be in our alliance?" She blurts out, then slaps her hands over her mouth. "Oh shit! I didn't want to say it like that!"

"I thought you said you weren't in the mood for flirting- OW!"

"That's what you get!"

"ANYWAYS!" I interrupt them. "The alliance?" "Oh, right!" Says the girl, abashed. "Well, I'm Quinn, the idiot next to me is Ajax, and this is Preston!" She says, gesturing to herself, the 8 boy, and her partner all in turn. "We were wondering if you would like to join our alliance?" I blinked.

Would I?

My death would definitely be prolonged if I had allies to protect me, but I might end up depending on them, or worse, be drawn close to them- so I'd be shattered when they'd die.

Was the outcome worth it?

I thought of tearing blades and grim smiles and sharp teeth and Capitolites sipping champagne and cheering.

Yes, it was.

"Okay, I'll join your alliance." I said with a smile. Quinn pumped her fist and Ajax grinned. "But we have a problem." "What is it?" Quinn asked. "We don't have a name."

"A… name?" Said Preston, speaking up for the first time, his face awash with confusion. "We could call ourselves the fantastic four!" Quinn yelled. "Nah, I have a better idea." Said Ajax with a sharp grin. "The four-leaf clovers. There's four of us, four-leaf clovers are lucky, and we need some luck right now."

"Sounds good!"

A/N: Writing is hard when you've had six hours of sleep.