I am off University for two weeks. I can't promise a lot of updates as I have work to finish. I have been writing this on and off for a few weeks.

The person who has reserved the pair from two, please update me on what is happening with the pair. Thank you.

Enjoy District Four, I hope all characters featured are within character.

Nicholas Davenport-16

District Four Male

I liked animals. I loved them in fact. Even as a fisherman, I did not wish to bring any more harm to animals that I needed to. However, seagulls, I held a special hatred for.

Their cries and shrieks were all I could hear as I pulled in that days catch. They swooped and dove at the wriggling fish we held in our nets. Sometimes they attacked us in the hopes that we would drop the net and fish back into the sea.

I grunted against the weight as me and four other guys hauled the fish in before the gulls had taken too many. Even if the fish were too big, it would stop them from cutting it loose or tearing it apart.

"Come on, Niko!" My father called with a grin. Such a weight was nothing to him and he rather liked the gulls.

With a scream, a small gull swooped at my neck, the net slipping away from me slightly.

I pierced my lips in frustration as my father let out a large belly laugh. "You'll get used to it son!" He shouted over the waves, waving over another crew member to come help.

The middle-aged man, most likely part of my father's crew since he was a young, smirked as he stood by my side, getting a good grip on the net. Then he started to pull. For the first time, I felt my body pulled away from the sea and towards the crab traps behind us. I looked over at the muscular man who grinned widely as with one last tug from all of us, the net was pulled successfully onto the trawler.

I turned away from the wriggling fish, opening the ice hatch on the floor by my feet. "Not fair, you're stronger than me," I said breathlessly, trying to hide my jealousy at the man's strength.

The gaunt-faced man chuckled. "You'll be like me one day, kid. Just takes practice, that's all." Then, with dead-on precision, he gripped a small fish and threw it into the hatch.

"Nicholas!" my father bellowed, untangling one of the fish. "You're down below today." With a frustrated huff, I began to back down the ladders into the dark, cold, lower part of the ship.

It was a large metal area filled with plastic boxes full of ice. Despite the single fish my crew mate had thrown in, the hold was empty. Yet, the smell of fresh fish lingered in the air. A smell that would only get worse and strangle me as the fish was passed down.

I pulled one of the heavy boxes and placed it on the steps, taking the fish who shared the room with me and laying it gently on the ice. I stood there, my arms ready to catch the fish that my crewmates threw at me. Sometimes I missed, by fault of the people above deck rather than my own. They would land by my feet or slap me in the face in one last act of revenge. However, no matter which they came down, they were quickly brushed off and placed on ice. Then they were stacked at the back of the room.

By the time we had finished, I had filled seventeen crates up, so about thirty fish all in all. It was a good run but not enough to fulfill the Capitol's demands. That was why fish farms were becoming more popular. Genetically modified so there was always enough for the fancy dishes the Capitol craved.

Noelani Palmer-18

District Four Female

I glanced at my watch, the second hand ticking away, and frowned. Training started in half an hour. The center was only a ten-minute walk from the butchers but when I factored in the time it took to put my belongings in the locker, greet people, eat my breakfast, pick my weapon and make my way to the dummy room, I would be lucky if I had a minute to spare. It didn't help that the old women in front of me was taking her sweet time.

I wasn't a bad person, at least I didn't think so but given the circumstances, she was starting to get on my nerves.

"I'm sure I had some," she mumbled to herself as she rummaged through her bag in search of the coins to pay for the chicken thigh she wanted. The butcher himself did not look concerned as he smiled away happily. He was completely unaware of my internal struggle. I had never been late to a training session and I was not about to have my first time be a week before I was due to volunteer. Yet, I knew I would not perform to the best of my ability without food in my stomach which would render the whole session useless.

I could not fault the butcher, he was kind and had never even looked at me in a negative way. He most likely thought I had all the time in the world with it being a Saturday. There was no school so to the duller creature I may have seemed like I was just getting the shopping for my mum. I was just thankful I had the foresight to put on my training outfit before I left the house. Covered by my thick coat, of course. Not just because of the cold but because not everyone in the District agreed with Careers.

We did not have as many victories from Careers as One or Two so some still saw it as unnecessary child killers. Last year, Fours efforts in the Games were laughable. I was going to be an exception to the recent fails, but not if I could leave the shop in the next thirty seconds.

"How about you serve me while she finds her money?" I said sweetly, a cheerful smile on my face. The butcher gave a small laugh as he waved me over with his scarred hands. My money already in hand, I said my order like I had rehearsed in my head. "A sausage roll please," I said, placing a bronze coin on the glass counter.

It took about a minute but the man turned back to me, placing a roll filled with two sausages into the black napkin I held. As I walked away, I looked at my watch once more and felt a sinking feeling, I was almost two minutes behind schedule, meaning my morning walk had to be replaced.

I wrapped my food up in the black napkin and tied it shut with a brown hair tie. I then placed in the deep pockets of my coat and stepped outside into the bustling street. The moment I was outside, I broke into a jog then into a full-on sprint. I kept the coat on my shoulders, the heat it created nothing to stop a future Career like me.

By the time I arrived at the old boathouse, now repurposed into the training center, my face was flush. My breathing was fast but I wouldn't have classed myself as out of breath. Just hot and flustered. I could run with a boy twice my size on my back. A Thick coat was nothing.

As I walked out of the sun and into the dark passageway that lead to the training room, I pulled my sleeve back and looked at the watch around my wrist. A gift for my 18th birthday. My sprint had placed me five minutes ahead of schedule. Things were going to plan.

Nicholas Davenport-16

Train Rides

My fingers drummed against the mahogany tables of the dining cart. My green eyes darted all over the room, from the television that played recaps of past games to the colorful table of food. Everything reminded me of what was happening and where I was heading.

I was strong and I had a chance. My mentor Finnick had even asked if I was trained over dinner. I thought my fisherman background would have come as a disappointment but the victor seemed rather pleased to have someone like me. Someone who feared the Games and everything they delivered.

In a week, I would be expected to fight, survive and kill. I was not sure about surviving but the other two would be easy. And that thought was what frightened me most of all.

If I wanted to, if the moment came and I had no other choice, I could snap a neck, crush a windpipe or throw a spear into the chest of a weaker Tribute. Maybe someone better matched to my ability. But I didn't want to. Who would?

I never understood the Careers thirst for the Games and the more I tried to get into their mindset, the less I understood.

If I killed, I'd like to think it would be out of need. Something I would regret but could justify myself enough to go to sleep. Yet Careers volunteered to kill. They hunted twelve-year-olds down and cheered as their cannon sounded. It was a wonder to me how any of them did it. Well, some.

Finnick put on a show but I noticed the way his smiled dropped slightly when he found out I was not trained. If that was disappointment he had been stuck with a dud or whether he was generally shaken by the increasing possibility that I would not come home. I liked to think it was the latter, it made him more human, not a male model.

"Why do Careers want to kill?" I asked the green-eyed man before me, the question that had been playing on my mind all day.

"I think its glory, maybe sometimes money, the chance to be more than their birthplace offers-"

"I don't think I understand," I sighed, my eyes flickering down to the table. "How does anyone take glory in murder?"

"You mean why do they celebrate their kills and hunt?" I gave a nod. Finnick looked over his shoulder, checking we were alone in the room. "Such a great opportunity like this brings forth gratitude and that brings forth sponsors," he said this with a sarcastic tone so what to the Capitol sounded like the support I knew what he meant. They show happiness with their kills to gain popularity.

Finnick then leaned in close, his voice a whisper. "Look, when you are in there, you can't think of them as people, only obstacles that stand between you and victory. Even the pretty little thing you get paired with can't be trusted. When you start to think like that, every cannon is music to your ears as you are one step closer to home."

I gave an understanding nod. Don't trust anyone and always seem grateful was what I had picked up. "Does the gratitude ever end?"

Finnick smiled. "No, it becomes the way of life for a victor. If you win, you'll most likely get the same treatment as me."

I chuckled. "I guess being the best looking guy in Panem can't be a bad thing."

I looked over to Finnick whose face dropped, a grim look in his eyes. "I didn't mean it as a good thing," he mumbled.

Noelani Palmer-18

Train Rides

For Capitol transport, the train sure was cold. I found myself pulling the thick knitted cardigan I had found laid out on my bed over my shoulders as I let out a frozen sigh.

The world outside was black, the only thing the window was useful was the site of raindrops on the windows and my distorted reflection. Yet, I found myself staring out into the world like I was watching my past slip away from my reach. I had trained for years yet I found myself doubting little things. Did I say goodbye to my family enough? did I make my bed? had I trained hard enough? I had no doubt in my ability and with this being my last Reaping year, it was now or never. But until I had met the other Tributes and got a taste of their skill, I was going in blind, something I hated.

"You are trained?" a voice said dryly from the armchair to my right. I looked over to see Annie, her face clean of emotions.

I gave a nod, turning to her. "Have you seen me train?"

"No," she said quickly. "You volunteered, it was just a guess." I mentally kicked myself for not figuring out that was the giveaway. The room fell into silence again, Annie still staring intently at me yet her eyes were glazed over.

"Well, do you have any advice for me?" Annie shook her head as she took a sharp intake of breath. I understood that Annie was not trained, she was just a frightened girl who was the strongest swimming but what use was she as a mentor if she couldn't even give me advice. "Come on, there has to be something!" I growled. The women closed her eyes tightly and started to rock back and forth, seemingly shutting down.

I turned back towards the window, feeling a mixture of frustration and guilt when she spoke again. "Your training doesn't amount to much inside of the Arena. There is strength in numbers but numbers risk betrayal. A loner is boring to the audience, even a trained one. One lucky, cunning Tribute or an Arena not built for your skill set and you might as well have not been trained at all. Do you think anyone expected me to win?"

"I know that so tell me how to avoid it like a mentor is meant to do!" I said this with more venom than I intended. I didn't like to admit it but the unknown was frightening and Annie in her broken state was not helping. She just sat. There laughing, her eyes still tightly shut. When she was finished, she looked me in the eye. At that moment, she looked stable, I might have been fooled that she was a normal young woman. Then she spoke.

"You can't control life and you can't control the Games. You can't trust anyone or anything. Everything is against you and if you can't adapt, take things as they come, you'll be dead before the first Arena week is out."

"The more you try to control the future, the more it slips through your fingers"