A/N
Right, I guess I can't pretend it's Sunday this time, can I? Oh well, I had a busy weekend doing important adult things so I didn't quite finish off this chapter in time. But it's here now, so without further blabbering, I present our next three tributes: Olivette (submitted by AuroraMiri25), Logan (submitted by Nautics) and Lunete (submitted by geologyisms). Thank you three for such brilliant kids!
Olivette 'Livvy' Beauchêne, 16, District Seven Female
A gentle breeze tickled Livvy's cheeks as the morning air drifted in from the window, which had been propped up with a handful of old leather books. Livvy opened her eyelids slowly, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the warm light of dawn.
There were no curtains drawn across the window of the small bedroom; Livvy preferred the sun to act as her alarm clock and at night, gazing at the stars in their naked glory often sent her into a peaceful slumber. Why block out the beauty of the sky?
She got up slowly, her eyes flitting around the room. She saw the drops of dew gathered along the edges of the window; the modest pile of neatly folded clothes on top of the carved wooden chest; the frayed seams of the circular rug that lay atop of the old wooden floorboards.
It wasn't much, but to Livvy it was more than enough.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the narrow bed, Livvy glanced at the creased photograph that was pinned to the wall.
"Good morning, father," she whispered to his wrinkled, but friendly face.
Of course, he said nothing in return. He was just a memory after all.
An empty feeling ached in Livvy's heart as she walked, barefooted, to the tiny bathroom next door. Ducking beneath the low-hanging lightbulb that dangled from the centre of the ceiling, she filled the sink with water, cupping her hands and dipping them below the rippling surface. The first splash of water on her sleep-soaked skin was cool and refreshing, washing away the remainder of her slumber. The second was cleansing; preparing her for the day that lay ahead.
Sometimes Livvy wondered how long she could hold herself together. Would she awaken one morning to find that her supply of optimism had dried, leaving only the remnants of pessimism in its place?
Happiness was not a finite resource, Livvy had learned. It was easily creatable, and easily shared. But happiness was also fragile, and sometimes even the smallest of fractures could collapse the most cautiously crafted mind.
Livvy decided that today she would create happiness, for that was what she did best.
Dressing in a simple, but pretty outfit with beige pants and a loose cotton shirt tucked in at the waistband, Livvy pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the centre of her world.
The toyshop.
Being nestled in a quieter side street of the main district, the little shop barely saw the sunlight until at least the early afternoon, though at this time of the morning there were just enough slithers of light breaking through the dusty windows to brighten the room.
In the summer, as it was now, the toyshop would be embraced with a comforting warmth from the mid-year heat. It felt almost like a hug; soft and close, as Livvy walked across her little patch of heaven, a bucket in one hand and a cloth in the other.
Stepping out into the street, Livvy drew in a long, deep breath. Her lungs gratefully accepted the fresh air; it was rich with oxygen from the thick forests that surrounded the district, and there was a crisp scent of pine needles and soft earth which she lapped up eagerly. When she wasn't tending to the shop, Livvy would often find herself wandering the forests. She found peace between the towering trunks, running her fingertips along the rough bark and wading her way through the fallen debris that lined the ground.
Quietly humming a sweet melody to herself, Livvy dunked the cloth into the bucket of water and brought it against the shop windows, scrubbing away the smears until it was as though the glass wasn't there at all.
"Hi there, Miss Livvy," a sweet young voice sounded from behind her.
"Good morning, Aspen," Livvy greeted the child with her usual welcoming smile. "You're out early, aren't you?"
The young boy nodded, pointing further down the street. "Mom wanted me to help with some errands. She said if I was good, I could have a look in your shop."
"And have you been good?" Livvy asked, though her chirpy tone indicated that she already knew the answer.
Aspen nodded surely.
"In that case, why don't you come in and help me set up?" she suggested, much to the boy's delight. With a bubbling amount of enthusiasm, Aspen followed Livvy into the shop, his eyes growing wide as he took in the familiar sights.
Livvy took the time to learn the names of every child that came to her shop. There were a handful of them who would pop by regularly, on their way home from the nearby school, to gaze at the newest creations and play with the samples Livvy would leave out. She found herself getting to know the individual personalities of the children who visited, and on more than a few occasions she had offered a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.
Aspen seemed to have formed a particular attachment to Livvy, and she had to admit that she had developed a soft spot for him too.
Insisting that he had grown some more muscle than the last time Livvy had seen him, which was only a few days ago, Aspen carried the bucket of water back through to the kitchen and came bounding back with an energetic skip.
The two of them spent the next half hour setting up the shop; sharing the jobs between them. Aspen was overjoyed to be helping out with 'adult' work, humming away to himself as he neatly arranged a shelf full of carved wooden animals whilst Livvy swept the floors ready to welcome her first customers.
A scuffle of boots against wooden floorboards alerted Livvy to her first customer of the day.
"Good morning, sir," said the sweet voice of Aspen, adopting his most grown-up tone. "Do you require any assistance?"
The corners of Livvy's lips curled into a smile as she silently giggled to herself. Children had such a charming innocence about them, which made the return of the Hunger Games even more difficult to accept. Many of the children of the district would never have known the fear of the Reapings –Livvy included –and so the fear of the unknown was perhaps even worse than what life had been before. It wasn't fair, she thought, that the most innocent in society were made to suffer and for no purpose. Sometimes the ends could justify the means, but there was nothing to be achieved with the death of twenty three children on live television each year. It made Livvy sick.
"Oh, I was actually here to see…erm…" a shy voice mumbled, just loud enough for Livvy to hear.
"To see Miss Livvy?"
"Erm, yes, I think so."
The voice sounded familiar in a distant part of Livvy's mind. She couldn't quite pin it down until she stood up from behind the counter and looked towards the person standing in the entrance of the shop.
A teenaged boy, short in height, with long hair that hung neatly down the sides of his face, stood with his hands behind his back. His nervous demeanour was familiar to Livvy as she recalled their first meeting, just last week.
"Oh hi!" she greeted him pleasantly. "Nice to see you again."
The boy seemed surprised that she remembered having met him at all.
"I'm so sorry I didn't catch your name last time," Livvy apologised.
"Oh, it's Cameron," the boy replied, shifting his stance from foot to foot. "And you're… Miss Livvy?"
Livvy laughed as Aspen beamed beside him. "Just Livvy is fine."
"Nice to meet you, Livvy –oh, nice to meet you again, I guess?" Cameron fumbled for his words. He then seemed to suddenly remember something, drawing out his hand from behind his back where a small basket was in his grip. "I brought you a gift –erm, to say thank you for helping me last week."
Livvy took the offering graciously.
"Cinnamon cookies," said Cameron quickly, as Livvy lifted the lid to see a generous pile of freshly baked goods. Her mouth watered at the comforting smell that wafted into her nostrils.
"Wow, they look and smell amazing," said Livvy, placing the basket on the counter. "You really didn't have to go to all this effort though! I didn't mind helping out."
"If we can't find the time to help a stranger then we're wasting our time on this earth, right?" Cameron said with a small smile, the words seeming familiar to Livvy's ears.
"Did I…"
Cameron nodded. "You erm, you said it to me. I thought it sounded nice."
Livvy looked at the boy. She considered herself to be quite a good judge of character, and from what she could tell from her brief encounters with Cameron, he seemed to be a boy who placed a lot of pressure onto his own shoulders for the benefit of others.
"If you want to help a stranger then why don't you come to a meeting with me tonight?" she suggested.
Livvy's friend, Chesney, was a young mother and strong anti-Capitolite rebel. Having given Livvy plenty of advice and support after her father's death, Livvy was keen to extend the support by attending Chesney's clandestine meetings and the occasional small protest. Plus, it was an opportunity for Livvy to feel as though she was doing something to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves.
"A meeting about what?" asked Cameron, curious.
Livvy smiled before replying with a single word.
"Hope."
Logan Brightberd, 17, District Eleven Male
"Logan!"
Logan looked up from his crouched position, his eyes squinting in the steady sunlight as he looked across the field. A short boy with a thin frame waved wonkily towards him, a bag slung loosely over his shoulder.
"Hey Basil," Logan called towards him. "What's up?"
Basil shrugged as he walked over, cautious not to stand on any of the crops that Logan was tending to.
"N-not much," he said, poking the toe of his boots into the loose earth. "School's f-finished for the day."
"Is it that time already?" Logan seemed surprised it was so late, though in the summer months it was easy to let time slip by as the daylight hours were extensive.
Logan rose to his feet, wiping his brow with the back of his dirt-coated hand. He felt crumbs of soil smearing across his slick forehead, but that was nothing new to him –he was usually covered in dirt. It was impossible not to be when the days were spent working in the fields, and Logan was never one to put less than one hundred percent effort into his work. It was modest work, but it was work that needed to be done.
"Yeah," nodded Basil. "The day d-dragged for me though. Hate school."
"School can suck," Logan laughed, agreeing with the younger boy. "But you should make the most of it whilst you can. Real work sucks more."
"Nothing sucks m-more than math," Basil's head dropped.
Math had never been Logan's strongest subject at school, but he could figure it out enough to scrape through the exams.
"I can have a look with you, if you want?" he offered, knocking the flakes of soil off his trowel. Logan often lent a helping hand with Basil's school work, though whether or not he was considered a good teacher was something left up for debate. Logan did, however, possess one quality that many lost when it came to Basil: patience.
Having stepped in when Basil was being subjected to taunts from school bullies, Logan had somewhat taken Basil under his own wing. Basil suffered with a stutter and was unable to stand up for himself, thus making him an ideal target. If there was anything Logan despised the most, it was bullies. And so, since that day Logan had first protected Basil, he had become almost like a shadow to Logan, clinging closely to him for security. Logan didn't mind; Basil was a good kid; he just needed a friend.
"I-if you don't m-mind," Basil smiled weakly. "I don't wanna f-fall behind and g-get picked on again."
"Anyone picks on you, you tell me, right?" said Logan, noticing that the other workers in the field were beginning to pack up for the day.
Basil nodded. "Sure."
Patting the younger boy on the shoulder with a friendly grin, Logan jerked his head towards the rest of the district. The two of them then made their way across the field, Logan lifting his hand to wave at some of the others who worked alongside him, as the sun began to set behind them.
The district seemed lively as they walked between the scattered rural buildings, as it often did at this time of day as people were finishing their shifts out in the fields and teenagers were flowing out from the nearby school. However, Logan did notice a slight shift in the atmosphere as he passed one of the central squares where the Justice Building stood.
A handful of men were carrying large pieces of metal between them, bringing them towards the stage at the front of the building. A flag with the Capitol's symbol printed onto it lay across the dusty ground, coated with muddied footprints where people had walked across it with malice.
Where the rest of the district seemed alive with the sounds of chatting and people happily making their way home after a hard day's work, there seemed to be a deadly silence that hung around the central area. Conversations came to an abrupt halt as passing eyes fell on the Justice Building, heads slowly dropping and boots shuffling heavily across the ground.
Beside Logan, Basil tensed up.
Logan opened his mouth to reassure his friend, but he found that no words came to his lips. How could he make a promise he could not keep?
Regular bullies, Logan could handle. But there was one particular bully even Logan could not protect the kids of District Eleven against: the Capitol.
A sudden cry broke the silence, piercing through its thick veil like a bullet through flesh.
Instantly, Logan's muscles tensed as his head turned sharply towards the source of the cry. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted the heels of trainers dashing behind the Justice Building.
"Wait here," Logan told Basil firmly, before breaking into a sprint towards the Justice Building. Basil stood behind, as he was told, always one eager to avoid confrontation whereas Logan always seemed drawn towards it.
Skidding on his heels, sending a small cloud of dust dissipating quickly into the air by his feet, Logan dashed down the back of the Justice Building.
Further behind the large building stood a small group of teenagers, similar in age to Logan. Two younger kids, a boy and a girl, had their backs pressed against the wall with their faces stricken with fear.
Logan advanced, feeling his heart rate beginning to increase as adrenalin seeped into his veins. He arrived just as the first kick struck the boy in the pit of his stomach, sending him doubling over in agony. Beside him, the girl screamed, tears breaking from her eyes.
"Get off them!" bellowed Logan, pushing his way through the handful of youths to stand in front of the two victims, like a barrier.
"Oh look who it is," sneered a girl with a closely-shaved head and dark skin that was decorated with ink. Logan recognised her as one of the notable bullies of the school. "Basil's little bodyguard."
"Oh yeah," agreed one of her allies, swaying from side to side in an effort to look mean. "Where's the little shit anyway? Left him unprotected?"
"You know, it doesn't make you look menacing when you sway like that," pointed out Logan with a bitterness tinting his tone. "You're just unbalanced."
With a sudden, but controlled jab, Logan slammed his open palm against the chest of the bully. Gasping, the bully stumbled to the side, crashing into the girl in an effort to catch his fall and proving Logan's point perfectly.
"You're gonna regret that," the boy spat, reaching towards his belt and pulling out a small blade.
At the sight of the knife, Logan glanced over his shoulder to the younger kids.
Run, he mouthed at them. They did, the girl helping her friend to his feet before retreating to safety with Logan blocking the way to allow their escape.
He turned his attention back to the bullies. There were three of them in total: the girl with the shaved head, the boy with the knife, and another boy who was larger than the other two, but who had little to say. He was likely there just to look big and threatening; a meat shield, if anything.
Logan widened his stance, adopting a defensive position. He had been in countless fights before, though he usually had the upper hand in some way or another. Now, all he had was his fists to hold himself against three, plus a knife.
The odds weren't in his favour, but that had never stopped him before.
The boy with the knife made the first move, slashing towards Logan's stomach. With a swerve to the side, Logan managed to dodge the edge of the knife, causing the boy to swear in frustration under his breath.
The girl came next, a swift kick to Logan's kneecap which knocked him slightly off-balance and into the knuckles of the largest boy. Stunned, Logan fell backwards, his back smacking against the Justice Building.
Pull yourself together, Logan.
Shaking his head, Logan refocused, comfortably avoiding a second kick from the girl. Gripping the bottom of her boots in his hands, Logan swung to the side, pulling her straight off her feet and tumbling to a heavy thud on the ground. The boy with the knife tried to take advantage of Logan's preoccupation with his ally, though Logan anticipated the move, swinging his first towards the boy's jaw, where it collided with his bone.
Whilst two of the bullies were recovering, Logan turned to the third. The larger boy seemed a little anxious as Logan flinched a few times, making him guess when his punch would come. The boy then tried to close the gap with his own swing, but Logan matched it, sliding his arm behind it and slamming his fist underneath the chin. The teen stumbled back, crashing into the wall with a gasp.
Panting, Logan tried to catch his breath. A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye just a moment too late and as he turned to block the attack, he felt a sharp pain searing through his side.
Logan met the boy's eyes for a few seconds as he felt the small blade pierce through his flesh.
"Shit man," the girl clambered to her feet. "You fuckin' stabbed him."
A wave of panic washed over the boy's face as he stared down at his hand which was still gripping the knife. Silent, he released the knife, leaving it inside Logan, as he turned and ran. The two others followed quickly behind, leaving Logan alone.
"Fucksake," Logan muttered to himself, clutching his side, but careful not to move the knife. It hurt, but it wasn't agony, and he was fairly sure that the wound wouldn't be fatal, though he would likely need a little medical attention to keep it from infection.
With a slight limp as he tried not to put too much pressure on one side of his body, Logan made his way out from behind the Justice Building.
He caught sight of Basil quite quickly, who had someone beside him. It was Sif, Logan's girlfriend. Sif spotted Logan first, her eyes widening as she saw that he was injured.
"Logan!" Sif cried out as she rushed towards him. "What happened?"
"Nothing much, I'm fine," he reassured her. "It's only a small knife, it's just a scratch really."
"That is not just a scratch, Logan," insisted Sif. "Come on, let's get you to a doctor now. Were you fighting again? You know it's dangerous –people are a lot more violent since the ending of the Games."
"I was just helping out these kids," Logan began to explain. "I didn't know one of them had a knife, I swear."
"Don't pretend knowing they had a knife would have stopped you," said Sif shaking her head as she walked him towards the local pharmacy where the staff had patched Logan up on a number of occasions.
Logan knew what his girlfriend had said was true. Knife or no knife, he would have run straight into that fight without a second thought. Regardless of the outcome, Logan would risk it all for those who could not protect themselves.
If he didn't, what hope would the world have?
Lunete Vinter, 16, District Ten Female
In her dreams, Lunete was happy. She dreamt about her friends, and her sister, Caitlin. They were laughing, lazing in the long grass beneath the boughs of a large oak tree, watching dragonflies zip through the sweet summer air.
But then the dreams would end, and in their place would form a nightmare. A shadowed figure; both faceless and nameless, would arrive without invitation, and it would take Caitlin. Take her right from under Lunete's nose; close enough for Lunete to see her sister leaving, but too far to reach her before she went.
And when Lunete awoke, she would realise that the nightmare had remained.
The shadowed figure was real. Her sister was gone. The only difference was that Lunete had not been laughing before it had happened.
She could not remember what happiness felt like. It was a faded memory, like those from early childhood. She knew she had been happy once, but if asked, she could not tell someone what happiness felt like. All she knew was pain.
The first year had been the worst. Lunete had known about grief; she had seen it on the faces of those who had lost loved ones; though she could never have known what it felt like until she had experienced it herself.
It was consuming.
Grief had taken over every aspect of Lunete's life. It stalked the corners of her mind, and clung to every muscle in her body. She could not move without thinking about Caitlin; she could not breathe without a reminder of what she had lost. Leaving the house would expose Lunete to an immense fear; the fear of the unknown. What if the man who took her sister's life was waiting behind the corner? What if he was waiting for her too? Or worse, what if he passed her by in the street and offered her a smile and she smiled back, oblivious to his true identity?
Away from the dangers of outside, remaining inside also brought with it painful memories. Caitlin's bedroom, still intact the way she had left it. Her floral scent clinging to the fibres of her clothes that were tossed over the bottom of her bed. A hairbrush lying on the floor; a shoe with its laces still tied. Everywhere Lunete looked, she would see her sister.
Caitlin was both everywhere and nowhere.
It was the fear that had prevailed. The fear that had made Lunete a recluse, hiding away from the unknown that lay beyond her front door.
Eighteen months had passed since the death of her sister.
Lunete, whilst mostly the same, was trying to recover pieces of herself. She knew that she would never collect all the pieces, for Caitlin had been one of them, but she could at least try.
The fear, well that had never gone away. It still followed Lunete like a shadow, silent but always present. But she was trying.
Lunete had returned to school, though sometimes she found that the abundance of people in one room was overwhelming and she would slip outside to catch herself before she fell. She had also started visiting her Dad more, and she had taken up a myriad of hobbies to keep her mind and body occupied.
She hadn't seen much of her friends, however. Cyril, Wilbur, Dee and Felix –they were all so strong. Felix especially; he had been the closest to Caitlin, probably even loved her. But even Felix had held himself together without a flicker of weakness. Meanwhile, Lunete had been all but strong.
Lunete was weak. A weak, little girl.
She couldn't face them, not yet. She had to fix herself first, otherwise she'd risk dragging them down with her. It was a shame that there was a lot that was broken.
The house was silent as Lunete made her way down the stairs, her feet treading almost silently with each step.
It was often like this at home; a feeling of hollowness that echoed around the spacious rooms with their tall ceilings and minimalist décor. Lunete's mother was the Mayor of District Ten, so her work kept her away from home often –a fact that Lunete did not mind at all. She had never been particularly close with her mother; Brigid Vinter had always made it clear that her priorities lay with her career. She had paid little attention to her daughters when they were young, and then too much attention when they began to show interest in having fun. Mischief could damage her reputation, her mother would tell them, and it was her reputation that had given them the comforts they took for granted.
One thing Lunete had perhaps taken for granted was her Dad. He had always been there for her and Caitlin, though after Caitlin's death he had finally given up on salvaging a marriage that had really ended years before. Lunete didn't blame him; in fact she held not a single shred of resentment for him leaving her. She knew that he had tried to take her with him, losing only to the influence his wife had possessed. If he could, he would have been right beside her every day of her life.
It was for that reason that Lunete found herself able to fasten the stiff laces on her boots and step through the front door, into the open district outside.
The walk to her Dad's house was longer than Lunete would have liked. Walking along the cobbled pavements and dirt tracks of the livestock district alone unnerved her. Whilst she tried to dismiss her concerns and assumptions that shadows lay behind the corners she could not see, Lunete's anxieties lingered just enough for her to feel the need to glance over her shoulder every few steps.
It was summer, and the air was humid, yet Lunete's hands retreated further into the sleeves of her sweater. Its soft material was a comfort against her skin, perhaps the only comfort she felt other than the offerings extended by her Dad.
Oscar Raleigh, having returned to his former name following the divorce, resided in a modest house which he shared with a Peacekeeper called Angus. Lunete's first interaction with the man her father shared a home with was not one she experienced much joy from recalling. Angus had been the lead investigator into Caitlin's death, though he had never found her murderer, and Lunete could never forget the brightness of the lights and the coldness of the small, square room as she was asked question after question.
But time was a healer, and whilst Lunete's wounds were far from mended, she had grown to accept that Angus held a small place in her life. In fact, she wasn't sure whether she should be considering him as a step-father –her Dad had never explicitly told her that he was romantically involved with Angus, though it somewhat seemed that way.
Pushing a finger against the doorbell, Lunete waited for a few moments before the door swung open and she was greeted by the chirpy smile of her father. It was clear that Oscar had felt the loss of Caitlin too –she was his daughter after all –though he had always made an effort to maintain a positive outlook for Lunete's sake.
"Hi honeybear," he beckoned Lunete in, the two of them sitting down in the small lounge. "How's school?"
Lunete shrugged. "It's ok, I guess."
"Got any tough homework?" enquired her Dad, before turning to the side to cough violently into a handkerchief. He suffered with chronic bronchitis, an unfortunate side effect from his years smoking. It would unlikely kill him, but it did keep him indoors more than he would have liked.
Lunete shook her head. "No, not really."
Oscar looked at his daughter with sympathetic eyes; his facial expression softening from a cheeky grin to a heartfelt gaze.
"What's up, honeybear?" he asked with care, resting a hand upon her knee. "You know you can talk to me about anything."
Lunete was torn. Existing simultaneously were two feelings. First was the desire just to open up her heart and tell her father everything that was weighing her down; to cry into his shoulder and hope that his presence could make the pain go away. The second, and more dominant reaction, was to retreat inside herself; to continue building the walls around her in a desperate effort to protect herself.
She could not choose.
"Is it the Reapings next week?" her Dad suggested.
In perfect honesty, Lunete hadn't spared many thoughts towards the Reapings. She was of course terrified of the idea of the Games, though they tended not to wander into her mind very often.
But she could tell that her father wanted to help her, and whilst Lunete could not bring herself to tell him the truth –that she was still plagued endlessly by her sister's death –she chose to allow him to offer what he so wished to give.
She nodded.
"Hey, don't get yourself too worried, chick," he told her. "Sure, it can be really scary, but the chances are low. You don't need tesserae, so that's already improved your chances, yes?"
Lunete nodded, her hands clasped in her lap.
"In fact, I have something that might help," Oscar stood up slowly, catching his breath as his lungs ached.
He walked across the room to where a small jewellery box stood on top of a display cabinet. Opening the box, Oscar dipped his hand inside, retrieving something small, before returning to Lunete.
"Here, open your hand."
Lunete turned her hand and opened up her fingers so that her palm was facing the ceiling. She felt a gentle weight in the centre of her hand as her father placed a silver ring onto her palm.
"It was my wedding ring," he told her. "I know your mother and I have gone our separate ways now, but the best thing we ever did in our lives was create you."
And Caitlin.
"You know, tributes often get to take a small token with them," said Lunete's father. "It won't happen, but if it ever did, you'd have a part of me with you."
Lunete's eyes rested upon the silver ring that lay in her hand. It did not appear to be much; just a simple silver band that seemed to be a few sizes too large for her slender fingers. But that did not matter.
To Lunete, the ring was more than just the rubble of a broken marriage. It was a symbol of hope that one day, she may find the courage to become herself again.
A/N
We are past the halfway point now for tribute introductions, and this time we have met quite a sweet bunch of tributes who are certainly quite different to the likes of some darker tributes we have met previously.
A small reveal here that the girl in Cameron's intro is actually one of our tributes, Livvy! Some people had their suspicions that it may turn out to be her, so smart thinking if you guessed that! As we saw in Cameron's intro, Livvy is a kind-hearted and selfless soul, running a small toyshop in District Seven. There is some sorrow in her life as she misses the man who raised her like a father, though his legacy lives on as she continues to run the toyshop. How do you think Livvy will cope with the Games? Will her bright personality be dimmed? Do you see Livvy and Cameron sticking together?
Sticking up for the little guy, Logan is the sort of person you'd want to have your back. He is compassionate and selfless, though we saw that his actions may be noble, but also carry with them great risks. Logan may have gotten away from this fight with a minor injury, but will he be able to walk out of the arena too?
Lunete is a sweet girl, though she carries a lot of emotional pain. Her sister's death plagues her mind, and it seems that even after eighteen months have passed, she is still unable to fully manage her own grief. Lunete is trying, however. She has returned to school and visits her father more often, but will the Reapings bring her progress crashing to the ground? Will the fear overcome her, or will she be able to overcome it first?
Another fabulous group of tributes; I am having such a blast writing for such a vast variety of kids. I'd love to hear your thoughts about these three, as always, and I thank you all for sharing your thoughts so far!
Three more intro chapters to come, and then we'll be moving towards the Reapings. I wonder how these tributes will interact with each other when they enter the Capitol in a few weeks' time?
Until next time!
Firefly