Beneath the Crystal Sky

by laptop246

Fawn Dogwood is 16. She lives in District 7. She is part of a prosperous scouting troop. She has two little sisters. She is learning a trade. She is being courted. She was never meant to be Reaped. "Scout. Sister. Performer. Tribute. What am I, now? Staring into my own brown eyes, I find that I can't tell anymore." High quality. Works very closely with the original series.

6. II TRIBUTES

PART II. PREPARING.
CHAPTER 6. TRIBUTES.

According to my traffic stats, this story has quite a few readers, yet I am strangely dry on reviews :( So, if you're reading this, please, please review. PLEASE! Um, in this one, my purpose is to introduce some of the tributes ... as in, all. Fawn's pretty observant, so she makes some mental note about all of them. It also includes some details about the Districts and their people as I imagine them. And some of the Capitol technologies.

Anyway, enjoy, and then review!

~BTCS~

Garnish Gleam's lavender smile is directed at me. I blink twice, trying not to stare at those strange patterned teeth before smiling uneasily in return. Quickly, I return to the food, which, though it is as strange as Garnish, at least doesn't smile at me. I lift one of the utensils displayed around the plate. It is similar to the forks at home, but this has four prongs instead of two, is considerably longer, and is made of swirling, smooth metal instead of the typical pine that everything we own is made of. Their spoons are smaller but deeper and the knives have actual blades, though dulled. At home, our knives are still wooden (sharpened as much as we can make them) as the Peacekeepers are loathe to trust us even with knives.

I glance upwards from my examination of the utensils, my plate still untouched. Garnish has transferred her smile to Raven, who looks as uncomfortable as I felt. Blight is eating with an appetite that appears unceasing. I wonder if he has grown accustomed to such large amounts of the strange Capitol food. Silent servants in crimson take away plates only slightly robbed of food and bringing seemingly endless amounts back. The silence that has lain over the room like a heavy fog, broken only by the train's hum, is suddenly broken by Garnish. "So, Raven, what are your strengths?"

Raven, eyes still puffy from crying, appears alarmed by the sudden question and by its nature. He glances at Blight, who has put down his fork to sturdy Raven, then to me in a pleading sort of way. I shrug slightly, curious despite myself as to how he may respond. He takes several deep breaths, then, more questioning than stating, replies, "Um, I'm used to being hungry?"

"Most of the tributes will be," Blight tells him. "but it will prove helpful to you, I am sure. What else?" Raven hesitates for several moments, so Blight prompts him, "You live in Redwood, yes?"

Raven nods. "I'm used to long work and small spaces. I can hide my emotions if I concentrate enough. And I learn really quickly." He seems to be grasping for things to say, but Blight looks thoughtful as he turns to me. "And you, Fawn? you are from Sawdust?"

Sawdust. The word stirs memories of home from where I have firmly planted them. The wild forest sitting beside ramshackle huts, light playing through branches to dapple the huts below. Children play with carved toys in the snow, screaming in delight. The sound of chopping comes from nearby, and a voice calls a warning as a tree falls, making the ground shake. A woman walks from the forest, dark face tired, an axe over her shoulder. A child cries out, running over to her. She lets out a cry as he knocks her into the snow with a hug. The other children scream in approval and run over. Soon, snow if flying and laughter rules the forest.

I brush away thoughts of home impatiently and consider how to reply. Why hide anything? I decide. Blight may save my life, and he'll need to know everything he can about me. "I'm in the Crescent Moon Troop." My fingertips find the crescent moon mark on my temple, and I smile slightly at the feeling of companionship it gives me. "I'm used to the wild. I can run really fast and climb, too. I've been throwing knives for years. And, like Raven said, I know hunger and long, hard work.

Blight's expression of thoughtfulness deepens somewhat and he nods slightly to himself as he returns to his food. Without looking up, he requests that I throw my knife. I blink in misunderstanding, glancing down at my eating knife. Where am I to throw? Before I can think too much of it, I snatch up the knife and throw. It lands directly in the middle of an artificial flower, knocking over its vase, and pinning it to the wall five feet behind its original placement. Garnish lets out a squeal of either surprise or excitement, and silent servants hurry to clean up the mess. My knife is not returned to me.

Blight grants me a 'not bad' and falls silent. Garnish quickly takes over, filling everyone in on the latest fashion statements of the Capitol, which I assume is her way of preparing us for our makeovers at the Opening Ceremonies tomorrow. After about 5 minutes, I have completely tuned her out, returning my attention to the food. When I tentatively try a bite, I discover that, while its appearance is strange, its taste is something far beyond delicious. Though it is strong, I cannot seem to get enough of it. Only when I realize that I feel sick do I set down the oddly-made fork and spoon. Soon after, Raven, appearing green, disappears to the bathroom, reappearing a delicate shade of sap.

Upon his re-arrival, Garnish excitedly announces that it is time to watch the Reapings. Feeling a strange sense of excitement and dread, I follow her through the sliding door (which still amazes me, as I come from a world where regular doors are a luxury) and into another compartment. The carpet we are now standing upon dulls the humming of the engine somewhat, for which I am grateful. I find the constant sound distracting. Garnish sits at the end of the noodle shaped couch and I quickly take the far edge. Blight sits beside me, leaving Raven with the seat between our mentor and escort.

The screen before us clicks on automatically, and suddenly I am staring at two people nearly as hideously dressed as Garnish. The woman smiles mechanically at the camera. "Hello! I am Lavinia Zatorini and this," she gestures at the man beside her, "is my brother, Cinna." She pauses for on set applause and I take the time to study them. Lavinia has a high soprano voice and long, bright red hair that is elaborately done with purple frills. What I can see of her outfit is also lavender and frilled. The man, obviously several years her senior, has left his hair untouched and clothes bland and simple. His eye shadow is lavender and strange, elaborate lavender tattoos embellish his skin.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Cinna's voice is strictly baritone - not too high or low. If not for the light accent, he would sound like plenty of young men back home. "It has been an exciting day, hasn't it, Lavinia?"

Lavinia smiles again, but this time at her brother. It seems warmer, that smile, when she gives it to him - not unlike a smile I may share with my sisters. "Reaping Day is always eventful - and a bit confusing. Which is why we are here for a recapping of the Reapings!"

"District 1 first!" Cinna smiles and suddenly the screen is occupied by a large marble square filled with well dressed and fed people. Most are blond and all are smiling and talking excitedly. Cinna and Lavinia's faces occupy small boxes in their separate corners of the screen, commentating about the many past victors of District 1. They fall silent as a willowy girl of 15 is Reaped. Quickly, however, she is replaced by a smug-looking girl with honey blond hair. When asked her name, she smirks and announces, "Shyne Luxor" as if it is the best person one could be. Cinna immediately begins to compare her to past tributes and victors, to which Lavinia happily contributes until the boys are being called.

A small but sturdy boy is called, looking thrilled. His disappointment is palpable as a sandy blond replaces him. "I'm Luster Diamond," the sandy blond tells the escort in an off-hand manner, looking almost bored.

Cinna and Lavinia immediately begin to commentate as the screen launches into the interviews. Shyne proves to be just as smug as she appeared, and Luster is quite likeable. I'm not listening as Lavinia tells her audience what the wealthiest citizens of the Capitol are saying about District 1 sponsor deals this year. I am staring at the formidable tributes that District 1 has to offer this year. They were chosen for this purpose years ago and have been training ever since. Training ... to kill me.

Suddenly, I am fighting to keep my dinner. It's as if seeing the other tributes has made me realize where I am going and what I am going to do. Black spots invade my vision and it is several minutes before I mange to push away my nausea, reminding myself sternly of the importance of appearance, since the train is surely bugged as well.

Cinna and Lavinia have moved on to District 2. I catch a glimpse of the dark granite square with the happy, muscular people, before a huge girl is Reaped. I think that she must be a mountain herself, but I am proved wrong when the volunteer approaches. With her short Raven hair and black eyes, I cannot find a more daunting image. When asked her name, she tells the escort shortly, "Gneiss Mount." The volunteer for the boys is just as large as Gneiss. His eyes are brown, unlike most of the crowd's black, beady eyes. His name is Mason Flint.

In their interviews, they both prove to be just as tough and confrontational as I had guessed. When a reporter asks Mason who he thinks will win this year - him or Gneiss, he laughs and loudly states, "Oh, that's easy. I'm strong, tough, and nothing can bring me down. I'm going to win. Easily." The final shots are of the tributes before the tribute train. Gneiss has her hands on her hips and Mason has his arms crossed. Both have their faces made into menacing growls. I cannot suppress a shiver of fear as I picture those muscular arms crushing my head like an acorn.

District 3, with its tall, high tech buildings, appears. The people here are more subdued, not laughing or talking loudly. Instead, a low murmur runs through the be-speckled, mousy haired people. The people here look actually worried instead of confident and joyful. The Capitol escort, a tall, lavender man, takes a slip of paper from the girl's glass ball. "Pixel Atom!" he reads out. "Will you please come to the stage?" I notice several people in the crowd look pained, but none cry out or let tears fall. A small girl of about 15 with mousy brown hair mounts the stage, confirming that she is Pixel.

"Chip Drive!" the escort reads. Again, several of the District 3 citizens look pained, but none loose their composure. A pale, lanky boy with mousy hair like Pixel joins the escort on the stage. As they both refuse interviews, pictures flash across the screen of the two, with their eyes slightly red.

Lavinia trills, "Time for District 4!" and a cobblestone square appears. The sun is hotter and brighter here, and you can just see the sea past the small buildings, like a wild, large lake. The people seem as happy as those in District 1 and 2, though not as well dressed. The babble of talk, however, cannot compare to any of the other districts. It falls silent only as the female volunteer steps forward, announcing that her name is Syren Seeh. She sweeps her midnight black hair out of her piercing green eyes and places a hand on her hip. The boy volunteer, Tide Playa, is only slightly taller than Syren, and they share their long black hair - Syren's cut to cover the small of her back, Tide's hanging to his shoulders. Both are a tangled and salty mess. Tide's eyes are sea blue instead of foam green, and they both are well tanned. Their interviews are predictably confident, and I don't both remembering any of them.

A new square made of rosy pink stone appears. The people crowding the square have rosy, fiery, and rusty hair. Looking at the sea of hair is like looking into a fire. The first reaped tribute, Scarlett Wires, makes her careful way to the stage. Family members now allow their distress to show in silent tears. As Scarlett takes her place on the stage, I note her nimble hands and careful green eyes. Her red hair is long and sweeps over her body like the branches of a weeping willow. Her partner, Candle Atom, is only 14. His hazel eyes are wide with shock, and something breaks in me then, seeing this boy crying and knowing I have to kill him. It's all I can do not to run from the room as reality sticks its unwelcome, cold nose in my face.

I try to direct my attention back to the screen as District 6 flashes up. Rails for the Capitol trains zigzag across the area I can see, leaving small places for buildings. The square itself is made of polished steel, neat and efficient. "Jet Rails!" the escort announces, and a few seconds pass before a girl with chin-length, uniform hair appears, chin held high. After a pause, her partner, Ryder Wheel, joins her. His own black hair is tied back into a neat low pony-tail, a style unseen out of District 6.

I am not ready to see my face on the screen. I try to brace myself, but there is no stopping the pang of homesickness that hits me as I look at Redwood. District 7 .. my hand wants to reach for it, but I keep it firmly planted in my lap. 'It's a show,' I remind myself. 'All about acting.' So I force my face into a neutral mask as I am Reaped, forcing myself to keep my eyes away from the crowd, where I may see my mother, Creta, Aria, River, and the other's reactions. I effectively drown out Cinna and Lavinia's comments about me as Raven is chosen.

Then there is my interview with Blight and Giovanni. Though I am trying my best to tune out the commentators, Cinna's voice breaks through: "Lavinia, isn't that your Giovanni?"

Lavinia's blush is as red as her hair. "Why, yes. It is. He is new to the business, but I am confident of his quick rise." Cinna teases his sister for a few moments, but allow my interview to play in full.

Then (thank the stars!) we are moving on to District 8, with its large factory building spewing smoke even though unoccupied, dirt and dust covering everything. The people are poorly dressed, in scratchy fabrics obviously cheaply made by themselves. The girl, Cotton Flinch, is 13 and has soft, wavy blond hair. She makes no means to hide her tears as she trips her way up to the stage. My heart beats too often, and I feel hollow. She is no fighter, just like Cabel from District 5.

"Thread Coil," the prim, perfect Capitol voice reads. A seventeen year old boy reluctantly steps forward, appearing discouraged, nothing more. Unlike Cotton, but more alike to the rest of the square, he has dusty brown hair, green eyes, and is quite pale. I wonder how often they see the sun here in dirty, dark District 8.

District 9 is a different world. There are only a handful of buildings around the square, and beyond that are fields and fields of rippling grain. The people are dressed worse here, with their dark skin and hair. Rye Brown, the girl tribute, appears to be a model of what most people from District 9 look like, with her light caramel skin and dark, curly hair. The boy, Barley Harvester, looks similar to his district partner, but his skin is almond and his hair is kept short. Rye has her arms crossed and looks tough, but Barley cannot conceal his look of terror.

Angela Herder, from District 10, has white blonde hair and a child-like face. Her hair and light skin stand out in the sea of brown like a mockingjay in a flock of hawks. "Grant Farmer!" the escort announces. Grant, dark face very defensive, emerges from the crowd. He glances at Angela, but otherwise ignores his fellow, trembling tribute.

District 11 is fields upon fields of green plants, with beaten down huts randomly placed about them. The square and people are covered in dirt. "Maze Fields!" the escort calls out, his eyes searching the crowd. A girl with dark brown skin and eyes approaches, looking mildly surprised. The escort announces, "October Harvest!" and Maze's face twists. Most likely, she knows the boy with light orange hair and a stubborn chin and nose. However, they do not so much as glance at one another.

In my opinion, District 12 is the worst district to inhabit. The sky is clouded, as though shrouded in smoke, and everything, including the starving people, is completely covered in coal dust. The escort, sporting pink hair, announces the name, "Hestia Flamel!" A bone thin girl of 15 with olive skin and dark hair approaches, knees trembling. The boy, Cole Miner, looks similar to Hestia. They could be siblings. Hestia cries silently as Cole joins her.

The screen cuts back to the beaming Zatorini siblings. "So, these are the tributes for this year's Hunger Games!" Cinna beams, straightening his black jacket.

"Our good wishes to all of the Districts and tributes this year!" Lavinia trills.

"And a Happy Hunger Games to you!" Cinna adds. The screen blacks out and the Capitol anthem blares as the seal appears. Then everything fades away.

I glance at my companions, conscious of them for the first time in a long while. Blight's face is creased as he considers the tributes. Raven appears hopeless, and I wonder if I, too, appear so ... defeated before the Games have even begun. Garnish, on the other hand, looks positively thrilled. "How exciting!" she cries. "I think that Gneiss and Mason look promising. Shyne and Luster cannot compare to their predecessors, obviously, but Syren and Tide look tough. What do you think, Blight?"

Blight starts, not having been listening. "I think it's time to talk strategy." I glance at Raven, who has withdrawn into a blank mask. I cannot summon any emotion, so I don't bother. What is there to hide? "Fawn, Raven, who stood out to you?"

It is obvious that Raven is not going to answer. I take a deep breath, letting the images of the tributes wash through my brain. "The Careers, obviously. Scarlett and Candle from 5. Cotton from 8. Rye from 9. Grant from 10. And Maze and October from 11."

"How do you identify them?" Blight arches a black eyebrow. "As allies or enemies? Would you be willing to join the Career alliance, if admittance was offered to you?"

I flinch at this instinctively. "No!" I snap. The Careers are widely hated in all but their own districts, because they have a chance to win, when we don't. And, most often, they kill our tributes. But I force myself to consider the question rationally. "The Careers backstab each other, especially the non-traditional Careers. No .. I wouldn't risk joining them. But any of the others I'd be willing to take as allies... Is that a good idea?" Just because Elfie from Mist Troop suggested this doesn't mean I should.

Blight nods grimly. "Alliances are essential." This, I remember, are the exact words of Elfie. "but" he cautions. "no alliances last forever. Remember this." He pauses, looking from me to Raven. "Now, about alliances. Are you two going to be coached separately, or are you going to cast your lots together?"

I glance at Raven. What are we going to do? Blight is right - this should be decided now. Raven has already seen me throw. If he is my enemy, this is too much. We acknowledged on the stage, however silently, that we would not kill each other if it was at all avoidable, but shall we, as Blight put it, cast our lots together? Raven glances at me, and our eyes lock. That one look says everything - our fear, reluctance, disgust, and maybe even anger. I blink. "I'm with you."

He nods, expression carefully removed, as though he expected nothing else. "And I'm with you."

"Well, that settles that," Blight nods slowly. "Who did you notice, Raven? Any allies?"

Raven hesitates. "I don't remember most of the tributes," he confesses, "except for the Careers and Grant from 10."

Blight sighs slightly, scratching the stubble from his chin. "Well, it's hard to say much about alliances this early, but I think you should definitely try and seek out the other tributes. Give all of them the benefit of the doubt. You can't really judge them by appearance - everyone but the Careers have received quite the shock. Including you two."

I blink slightly. And I shocked? I'm still not mustering up much emotion. My pity is all for my family and friends and the tributes on the screen - not for myself, not yet. Feeling uncomfortable, I stretch my arms slightly, and yawn. It has to be pretty late, and, though lacking in its usual physical exertion, the day was strenuous. When will we be allowed to go to bed? "What about tomorrow? With the stylists?" I am not looking forward to being dressed in the silly Capitol fashion and paraded about like their show-dogs.

"You have to let them do what they want," Garnish tells me sternly. I'd forgotten she is here. "Your appearance is how you will be judged, no matter how Blight detests this. Your stylists are trying to help you." No threat is attached at the end, as I am accustomed to hearing. Does Garnish threaten people? I wonder. Does she even know how?

I glance at Blight for support. He rubs his forehead. "Garnish is right," he tells me, ignoring my sour face. "The Capitol prides itself upon appearance. Therefore, yours should appeal to them."

Raven and I share a disgusted look. "But -" I know the moment I open my mouth, the argument is hopeless.

"Don't argue. Please," Blight's face is in his hands. What sort of emotional struggle is going on within him? Is he remembering being a tribute himself, and the children he'd mentored before us? Thinking of how only one of us may return, and probably neither of us? My heart twists in pity despite my anger at his decision. "Just ... go to your rooms. Try to sleep."

I don't argue anymore. I leave the room silently, going through the dining compartment, now cleared of all food, and into the hallway beyond. My room is the first to the right. I spent some time in it before the meal, admiring it. I was quite taken with the electronics, the comfiness of the furniture, and the largeness and delicateness of the objects. Never would we be able to have such abundance in the huts. I was reluctant to leave my search for dinner. Now, however, I feel sick as I look at the room. It has housed sixty-nine other female tributes of District 7 on their way to the Capitol. I am the seventieth. Will I return to see it again?

As the doors slide closed behind me, I realize that I am completely alone, except for maybe a few bugs. I expect whatever emotion I have hidden to hit me in this moment, when I can hide under the blankets and let it all out. Maybe I will feel anger, and pound at the pillow. Maybe I will feel sadness, and cry until my heart breaks. Or maybe I will only feel emptiness, and curl into a ball, hopeless. But the only feeling I can muster up is tiredness.

I stretch and yawn again, looking around the rooms unexcitedly. The bed-room has already been thoroughly explored by me, but I've barely looked into what Garnish calls the 'closet' and the bath-room. In Sawdust, we hardly ever bathe or change our clothes, so these rooms were not immediately interesting to me. But I now enter the bathroom and take off the beautiful dress Riccy loaned me, sitting it in a neat heap on the floor. I scan what appears to be dips in the floor, and discover that they are meant as a sink and bath. I quickly have the latter foaming in creamy orange bubbles that reminds me of sap. Their smell, however, is more tangy.

I climb in and relax as the warm water hits me. Warm water ... another luxury we do not have in District 7. We only bathe in streams pre-approved, and in the summer. Even in the warmest degrees, the water is chilling, and baths are not long. Here ... I sigh and let the water wash over me. It has no current, which is odd to me. I reach over to the buttons on the wall and press a few more. Blue liquid pours into the water, giving it a soothing color. The next makes bubbles rise around me. Another makes the dip vibrate around my back and legs, massaging them. But at the appearance of lavender mist, I loose whatever relaxation the bath has given me. Lavender ... it's a reminder of why I am here. Quickly, I climb out of the water, and it drains with a satisfying 'pop'. The mist clears immediately.

I turn my attention to the sink, trying to forget the mist. Buttons surround it, along with boxes and lumps of the sink. I press my hand on a box, and a current of warm air detangles and dries my hair within four seconds, letting it fall, silky, onto my shoulders. Another dries my body in a similar way. A button turns on the sink, filling it. Another makes the water churn, giving it a current that I find soothing. Soon, I am bathing my hands in a similar way that I did my body. When I decide that is enough, I withdraw my hands, and it drains immediately.

Another button produces me with a tablet. I study it for several seconds before I realize that I am supposed to consume it. Skeptically, I place it in my mouth and chew. The taste of mint (familiar from tea at home) rushes into my mouth, freshening my breath. The pill dissolves immediately. Upon further investigation, I discover my teeth are a pearly white I have seen only on Capitol citizens.

When I touch a lump, a creamy fluid shoots out of the walls. I gasp in shock, adrenaline pumping through me before I realize that it is soothing and harmless. Still, I cannot relax after this newest surprise of the bath-room. I slip out, into the bed-room, Riccy's dress clutched protectively in my arms. I hesitate, looking at the comfortable bed, before darting into the closet. A screen is on the wall, beside the door, and about five poles of strong metal run from one wall to the other. I go to the screen, tapping it curiously with the hand not holding Riccy's dress.

"Hello," the screen lights up to the Capitol's seal, and a female voice addresses me, making me jump and drop the dress. "How may I help you, Miss Dogwood?"

For a moment, I am speechless. How does the closet know my name? Then, I remember. I am a very important person to Panem now. Someone must have programmed it to recognize me. "Um," I say. "I need a nightgown. Something to sleep in."

"What do you prefer?" the voice asks. I wonder where it is coming from - it seems to be ringing from all around me. "An outfit or a dress?"

My head is spinning with shock. By far, this is the most amazing thing I have seen yet. "An outfit."

The screen then presents me with about twenty different styles of nightgown outfits. "Something like this? Or something different?"

I stare at the pictures, speechless for a moment. Then, I manage, "Do you have anything simpler? Something similar to what I'd wear home?"

The voice is silent for a moment. "Home? I do not understand. This is what I have. Something like this? Or something different?" It offers new pictures, trying to be helpful.

"Uh, this one, I guess," I tap on a frilly shirt with legging-like pants, designs running up and down their length. The screen quickly separates into a screen of outfits that are similar to the one I chose. The voice asks again. "Something like this? Or something different?" I go through ten more screens like this, choosing the simplest outfit I can find, and then the voice says, "I think I understand."

I am waiting for further direction when I hear a whizzing sound. Years of scouting have me spun around quickly, but even I cannot catch sight of the objects in motion. They have stopped, pausing before me - outfits similar to the ones I just saw on screen. Bland for Capitol standards, but ridiculous compared to mine. "Are these pleasing to you?" the voice asks. "Or do you want something different?"

"Um..." I glance at Riccy's dress on the floor. "You know what, I'm actually fine. Thank you."

The outfits wiz away. I can catch only a blur and they are gone. I turn back to the screen, scooping up Riccy's dress. "It is my pleasure, Miss Dogwood. Anything you need, I will always be pleasured to give you." It pauses, and I wait for the screen to black out. But apparently, the voice is not done. "Do you wish to program your outfit for tomorrow?"

I shake my head, forgetting that it is a screen. I am opening my mouth to reply when the screen replies to my shaking, "All right. I will expect to program for you tomorrow morning."

"Oh," I say, shocked that it can monitor me so well. "Well, thank you again. And ... good night." I'm wondering if it will open before the screen becomes dark and the voice falls silent.

"Good night, Miss Dogwood. And good beauty sleep to you." the screen now returns to its platinum gray and the voice is silent. I stand before the door, and it slides open agreeably. Stepping back into the bedroom, I realize that I'm not cold. Even though I am wearing no clothes, the room has adjusted its heat for me to be completely comfortable. How accustomed I am to being cold, I realize only now. I frown slightly and bring the dress to my nose. Snow, pine needles, and sap. Home. How far away it is.

I put on the dress, comforted by its familiar weight. I adjust the lights without too much trouble, having already figured out how earlier, turning them all the way down, and leaving myself in complete darkness. I feel my way to the bed and climb in. The blankets are already a comfortable temperature, though I wish they were cooler. In fact, I wish the whole place was. Maybe Blight knows how to make it colder ... The blankets, warm as they are, are plush and soft. My last waking thought is that I miss Aria and Creta's bodies providing the warmth instead of the Capitol.

~~BTCS~~

I am running from something through an inferno of light. Fire reigns the night. My family and friends are running with me, along with people I don't know. Aria and my mother push through the dark air, panting from exertion, and I scoop up Creta, who is falling behind. I suck in a breath of smoke, and panic forces its way into my heart. My father died like this.

"Fawn!" Creta is flailing in my arms. "Stop! I can't go farther!"

"What do you mean?" I have to set her down, she is struggling to hard to be rid of my arms. "Creta, you can't stop! The fire will get you!"

My mother and Aria have stopped beside me. "No," they say. "it's all right. We will be safe here. Don't worry. We can keep each other safe. But you have to go!" Aria's voice raises several octaves, worried for me as she always is. "You have to go, Fawn! They aren't after us! They want you!"

Creta pushes me in the direction of the other fleeing people. "Run, Fawn! Run!" At the sign of their panic, my feet fly away, though I glance back at them, watching until fire and smoke obscure my vision. I join the group of people again, running at its back. Smoke fills my lungs, and I cough for several moments, trying to rid myself of the taste.

A figure with shaggy black hair pulls away from the group. I stare for several moments, my eyes burning from the smoke, before screaming, "River! Come back!"

"No!" he appears panicked. "Run, Fawn! I'm safe! Just go!" I can only watch as the fire swallows up River as well. I scream an unearthly scream at the sight.

The Crecent Moon Troop falls behind next. I scream at them, begging them to stay with me, but they, too, are eaten by the fire. Tears flow from my eyes, but I'm not sure if it is from the smoke or distress. I am forced to watch as, one by one, my friends are peeled away from the group and eaten by fire. The smell of burning bodies is like acid on my tongue as I choke and stumble forward.

Soon, it is only me and twenty-three others racing through the forest. When I glance at my companions, I am shocked to see the other tributes surrounding me. My horror grows when the Careers turn on the others, striking them down with sharp weapons, shining in the firelight. When most of the others have been lost to the fire, the Careers turn on each other, fighting until only one is left. Eyes shining with fire, the surviving Career turns to me.

I run as fast as I can, but the Career still catches up to me, jumping on me and pinning me to the burning floor. It is like touching an iron, and the flames lick up my skin. The Career sneers at me, pushing me harder into the ground. He laughs as I am swallowed up by the ground and the fire.

And then the entire world is fire. Despite everyone's sacrifices to keep me alive, I still am swallowed up by the fire and pain, just like my father was. I was in the way, and the flames eat at me greedily, using me as fuel to the fire that is eating up the world.

~~~BTCS~~~

Cinna? WHAT! Anyone recognize Lavinia? Anyone? And yes, Giovanni does end up important ... As I believe I have mention about a million times, this fic goes far beyond the 70th Hunger Games. I've been adding to the plotline, and here's some of what you can expect: More on Lavinia, Cinna, Giovanni, Portia, Johanna, Titus, Tigris, Blight, Annie, Finnick, and their child, Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, young Katniss and Prim, Foxface, Glimmer, the victors, District 13, District 12, District 7, the Capitol and its technology and social web, the wild, mockingjays, mentoring, rebellions, The 71st, 72nd, and 73rd Hunger Games, the 74th and 75th Hunger Games from a victor's POV, and Blight, Annie, Finnick, Beetee, and Johanna's Games. Oh, and about Fawn's life, of course! So, yes, there's lots and lots to expect!

So? Which tributes struck you as important? Let me know in a review! PLEASE!