Jillian Emerson, aged 15

When Jillian was younger, she owned a stuffed fox named Foxy. She can't remember where he came from or why she calls him that. All she knows is that Foxy has been with her for as long as she can remember.

When Jillian was a tiny little toddler, Foxy was there. When she celebrated her third, fourth, fifth birthdays and every birthday after that, Foxy was there. When she felt like happily hugging something, she would hug Foxy. And when she needed a hug to make her feel better, she hugged Foxy.

When Jillian noticed the awkward tension between her parents, Foxy noticed it too. When they began to argue, fight, and shout, Foxy was just as nervous as her. When Mom and Dad sat her down at the dinner table one quiet afternoon and told her the heartbreaking news, Foxy sat on the chair across from her. And when Jillian cried herself to sleep that night, she was holding Foxy.

It's no wonder Jillian really likes foxes, especially after cuddling a stuffed one all her life. She admires the fact that her red hair reminds people of the sly and cunning animal, though when compared to the browns and greens of the arena, she wishes it wouldn't stand out so much.

It's been how long? A week? Two weeks? Perhaps much longer. Time has just slipped away and Jillian has lost count of the days she's spent alone. Running, tracking, hiding. Fearing for her life. Nowhere is safe enough and every moving thing is an enemy. From the tiny animals milling around, to the shadows of the other tributes that dance between the trees.

Now, the atmosphere is more tense. The playing field has been narrowed down to five. Five tributes left, four of which are standing in Jillian's way. Once they're all gone, she can leave. She can go home. Once she gets back to 5, Mom and Dad can come live with her in Victor's Village. Maybe they'll realize how much they truly love each other and decide to get back together?

Voices can be heard in the distance. Jillian stops walking and glances around nervously. She ducks behind several trees for cover as two figures make their way closer.
It's Katniss and Peeta, Jillian thinks to herself. The star-crossed lovers from 12.

She knows better than to attack them. Jillian's tired, starving, and just plain weak. On the other hand, Katniss has a bow and Jillian can't be completely sure that Peeta is as harmless as he looks. And it seems that they've had more luck finding food than her. Jillian has eaten anything in who knows how long. And if she doesn't eat soon...she might not last much longer.

So far, Jillian's strategy of staying low has worked. Katniss and Peeta don't know she's watching them. In a way, she's kinda acting like a fox. Stay hidden, then when least expected, go for the kill. Except Jillian's not focused on the kill. She's focused on the food.

Foxes are cunning and clever animals. They will do whatever it takes to fill their stomach. They don't care how thy have to hunt, as long as the kill is theirs in the end.

And if acting like a fox has brought her this far, then surely it will work again.
Jillian creeps closer and closer to the food Katniss has carelessly left out in the open. Soon, she's so close, she can practically taste it. Ah, she can't wait to finally have something to eat!

Finally, Jillian reaches out and snatches a bit of cheese. It's a lot softer than she expected, but it's food, and that's all that matters. She stuffs the piece into her mouth, not the least bit worried about savouring the food for later. But soon, the food is gone and Jillian is left hungry again.

She creeps out a little further, with tiny, soft footsteps. Considering how loud Peeta is trampling everywhere, nobody would ever hear her. Speaking of the boy, there he is. Casually picking berries from a bush.

Ah, berries. Jillian's mouth waters at the thought of the sweet juice exploding on her tongue and taste buds dancing in delight. Not a fox's favourite food, but she's so hungry that she doesn't care. She sneaks closer and closer, until Jillian could just reach out and tap Peeta on the shoulder.

Once she has some food in her, she'll be able to last for a few more days. Then, she can just wait the others out. She'll be back home before she knows it, in a nice bed, with parents who love and support each other, and Foxy in her arms. They'll never divorce and Jillian will never have to face the Games again.

Now, Jillian is a very wise girl. She understands she can find a way to win the Games without bloodshed, but will have to prove herself interesting enough if she wants that to happen. She studied everything about survival during her time in the Capitol. She's sly...cunning...clever.

Yet even the most intelligent of people make mistakes. And Jillian, hungry, tired, and nervous, didn't realize hers or Peeta's...until the berries touch her lips and she's as good as dead.

Even Jillian Emerson can be outfoxed.

Celaena Marshall, aged 34

The atmosphere is weary as the Reaping for the 75th Hunger Games rolls in. District 5 can't be bothered to act more excited. They know what's up. They know who's going into the Games. There's only two living Victors, one of each gender. Their fates were sealed back when the announcement was made.

Yet, when her name is called, Celaena Marshall starts screaming anyways.

Before she can run off the stage and into the crowd, two Peacekeepers start dragging her into the Justice Building. Celaena begins to cry, as she desperately attempts to fight her way out of their grasp. Yet, she's thrown inside one of the rooms and the door is locked.

Celaena doesn't want to go back into the arena. She's been in there once, during the 56th Hunger Games, and it was an absolute hell. Even almost two decades afterwards, Celaena still wakes up wailing in the middle of the night. She's broken, beyond repair.

Heated whispers can be heard outside the door before it eventually opens to reveal Celaena's only surviving family member. Her father.
It doesn't take him long to scope up his daughter into his arms. Celaena can hear Mr. Marshall sobbing as they embrace. He knows that they're taking away his daughter again. And there's a chance that this time, she might not come back.

It's the worst thing a father could ever face.

"Dad, please..." Celaena wails. "Don't let them have me."
"Sweetheart...you have a chance at winning. You're still young, you can remember your old strategy. You'll find a way."

"No!" Celaena's grip on her father grows tighter. "I don't want to go! I don't want to go back in there! I don't wanna die!"
"Celly..." Mr. Marshall gently calls out his daughter's childhood nickname as he cups her face in his hands. "I don't want to see you go back into the arena either. But we have no say in the matter. Yes, this Quell is a horrible turn of events. I am just as scared as you are."

Staring into the warm brown irises she shares with her father, Celaena takes a deep breath. The reason she doesn't want to have to fight anymore...it's because she's scared. She's terrified. She also knows for a fact that she's not popular anymore. Nobody will root for her, the lowly Victor from 5, to win. She'll be overshadowed...then killed off.
Sure, they could get behind her a decade ago. But there's other Victors now! There's Finnick Odair. Johanna Mason. The Ritchson siblings. Even Brutus Galvino and Lyme Sanchez from long ago still make headlines in petty Capitol magazines.

Then there's the pair from 12. The star-crossed lovers. The most recent Victors, the most popular faces in Panem. How will Celaena ever be able to compete with that!?
"What...what if I don't come home?"
"No no, honey. You can't think like that."

"But..."
"Well...can you try? Can you try to come home...for me?"

Celaena lifts up her head. She stares at her father.
"Celly, you know that I'll always be here to support you, no matter what. I want to see you win. So...do you think you could try and fight to make it home for me?"

Celaena considers this. Could she bring herself to fight...to try again...for her father?
"You can do it, Celly."
"I can?"

"You've done it before. I've seen it happen. And if you're ever worried...just think of me, okay? Just...come back home for me."

Celaena nods and gives her father one last hug. She clutches him tight and doesn't even think of letting him go. Before long, the Peacekeepers come in and pull him away. Celaena screams as she reaches out for her father, but the Peacekeepers stop her. One grabs her arm and starts yanking her in the direction of the trains.
"No!" Celaena yells. "NO! I don't wanna go back! 't wanna dies! Don't make me go! Please! PLEASE!"

In a final attempt to escape, Celaena reaches out for her father. He doesn't reach back. Instead, he lets the Peacekeepers lead him outside as he stare at his fearful daughter. Teardrops form in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face. His heart is on the verge of shattering into millions of pieces. He gently whispers a few final words.

"I love you, Celly."
Even in her panicked state, Celaena recognizes his voice. She doesn't answer, but just nods, blinking back tears. Then the Peacekeepers finally pull her towards the train stations and slam the door behind them.

And when Celaena finds herself struggling to take her final breaths a giant tidal wave washes over her, Mr. Marshall whispers them again. This time, he's met with silence.

Sorry this chapter kinda sucks. I was struggling to find some motivation to write, but eventually I completed it. Hope anyone who's reading this story enjoys anyway.