Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

d3f

Everything is bright.

Everything is loud.

Everything is busy.

She hates it.

The Peacekeepers march her through endless corridors, and her legs tremble beneath her.

She knows she must be one of the oldest, but so many of the other tributes look bigger and stronger than her.

She wants to cry, but won't let herself do so.

She feels like she's being marched to her death.

Everything is too bright.

d11m

It felt like the hovercraft trip lasted forever, but the walk through the silver and black halls seems to go far too fast. The Peacekeepers shove him into a decent sized room with a large, glass tube in the back right corner and close the door behind him.

He hears it hiss locked.

Above his head, speakers hiss to life.

"ATTENTION TRIBUTES. IN YOUR PREPARATION ROOMS YOU WILL FIND ONE SET OF ARENA CLOTHING ON THE TABLE ON YOUR LEFT. PLEASE USE THE FOLLOWING TWENTY MINUTES TO PUT IT ON."

Twenty minutes.

Is that all he has?

Twenty minutes, and then he's going to die.

d2f

She's fit and strong and three years too soon.

She dresses in the arena clothes, and they're soft against her skin, cargo pants with deep pockets, a deep green tunic, a waterproof jacket, heavy duty brown boots. She dresses herself, slowly, methodically, and braids her hair tight around her skull. She would have to cut it as soon as she could; it was too long to be practical.

She sips at the glass of water provided, nibbled at the bread roll and fruit laid out, and waits.

She doesn't know what any of the other Career tributes are going to be like, but she has an ally from her District. They have a plan.

They can make it through the bloodbath.

And then come what may.

d5m

"ATTENTION TRIBUTES," comes the announcement. "PLEASE ENTER YOUR TUBES."

So this is it.

The moments before his death.

He forces in one last lungful of air and crosses the room to step into the tube. A door hisses closed and his fate is sealed.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn't want to die.

He thinks of his family at home.

He thinks of whether they'll remember him when he's gone.