Oh, although there haven't been many reviews I have received some amazing feedback via PM, the tributes are shaping up nicely: 14 tributes submitted so far :D But seriously guys, I really, really need more male tributes so PLEASE submit males! Now, here is Autumn and I seriously love her...

Autumn Thorn, District 5

Ha, The Hunger Games; an annual event that strikes immense fear into the hearts of everyone who lives in the districts of Panem; but not me. When I think of the Hunger Games, the first word that pops to mind is not death, not pain, not fear. No, the word that springs to mind is opportunity. An opportunity for a better life, an opportunity to afford my father's much needed medicine. In all honesty my thoughts haven't been like this once my heart was filled with that throat clenching fear but my circumstances changed, and so did my view of the world; or more particularly the Hunger Games.

You see, I adapt. I adapt to whatever situation faces me, face me with a comedian and I will laugh or in the presence of my superiors I will speak when spoken to, act respectfully. Adaptation is the key to survival; adapting is what has kept my family alive since the accident. The accident at the power plant which has left my father, my 'Papa' bed ridden for the past 5 years; consumed with fever, his condition deteriorating ever since. My family: we adapted, changed our way of life. My mother, once a dutiful housewife who would be seen cleaning; a smile etched onto her pretty face. Now, she is Shea Thorn the pickpocket, she may not be proud of what she has to do; but she has to, and we need the money much more than the pompous merchant families. My sister, 9 year old Twila; she used to paint and make sculptures to escape the harshness of reality; they were simply a representation of her escapism. Now her art is nothing but a commercial trade to bring money into the household, the money needed to purchase father's remedies. However, the one and only remedy which could truly alleviate his symptoms is far too expensive for a family of district 5. The only people who could afford the concoction are citizens of the Capitol, or maybe the Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games.

And so we come in full circle, back to me; Autumn Thorn, future Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games. Yes, I intend to enter the arena and win; I know I can survive, why I hear you ask? Because the key to survival is to adapt, and one thing I can do is adapt; Plus, I have a reason to win rather than the bloodthirsty brutes who hail from districts 1, 2 and 4. I hear you wondering, how? Although me and my family put enough food on the table and pay the bills I have secretly been signing up for tesserae since I was 14, today my name will be in that crystal bowl 42 times. The odds will not be in my favour, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I appear delusional I know, but let me ask you: If you knew you could save you father's life by winning a game, would you? Would you try? Now, it may seem as if I'm over estimating my abilities and I may be; but when I enter the arena I won't be unprepared.

I have a plan, a strategy of sorts that I think will be key in my survival; plus I am more than prepared to kill if I deem it necessary. I know, how would I be able to kill another sentient being? Simple, I am a hunter: for the 5 years since my father has been unable to provide, I have put the food on the table. Stalking prey through the thick forest that lines the eastern border of district 5; my footsteps muted, my senses scouring the underbrush for any sign of wildlife. I have a reputation in my district as the sweet girl, who cares for her sick father; People can never see what is right in front of them. They just see the facade I let them see: someone weak, vulnerable and sweet. In reality I could slit their throats in the blink of an eye. I am not sweet, weak or vulnerable; I am lethal, strong and brutally realistic in my viewing of the world. But I allow them to think what they like, it is all part of my plan; the plan that will commence today. Today is the day that will mark the beginning on my father's recovery, today is the day that marks the beginning of my plan; the beginning on my road to becoming a Hunger Games Victor: Today is reaping day.

'Autumn, Twila. Breakfast is ready, hurry before it gets cold' My mother's flute like voice floats up the stairs. I hear the thumping on the stairs, the indicator that Twila is racing in response to mother's summons: mention food and Twila will pop into existence, drawn like a bee to honey. I roll my eyes at my younger sister's enthusiasm, so young and innocent before I make my way downstairs to greet my family.

'Mom, what's up?' I note my mothers pinched forehead and how she is gnawing on her bottom lip; a sure sign that something is wrong. You see, I can read people like they are open books; every gesture, every expression tells you something and I can decipher it, which is how I know something is worrying my mother.

'It's, it's your father Autumn, his getting worse' Her voice broke, tears pooling in my eyes and my conviction flared into life; it had to be this year, I don't think father could wait another year for medical attention. I breathe a sigh of relief; if everything goes to plan I will be able to get him that attention he needs so much.

'Is there nothing we can do?' I say, cracking my knuckles and looking over to where Twila is eating with such enthusiasm I was fully prepare to run over there and perform the Heimlich if she began to choke.

'No, it's only a matter of time, until he-'

'Mom, do not speak like that. Papa is going nowhere, I won't let him' my voice was steely, there wasn't much time and I could feel a thrumming in my stomach as it clenched in anticipation. Any reservations, any doubts I had about entering that arena were gone; there was no choice now, I needed to win these Games.

'Autumn, there's nothing that we can do. We've done everything that we can' her voice is hushed and she glances over towards Twila periodically. We have always tried to shelter Twila from the severity of father's condition; it's simply too much for a young girl like her. I pick at the toasted flatbread and cheese mother had prepared and wolf it down at such a pace it could rival Twila's

' Mom, we'll talk about this later' I'm going to see Papa and then I'm meeting Claudia and Jordan, you know for the reapings' She nods, I always go to the reapings with my two friends, and since today could possibly be the last time I see them I cannot afford to break a tradition.

'Papa' my voice is but a whisper as I enter my parent's bedroom, the four walls that have trapped my father for years.

'Autumn' my father calls out in his gravelly voice, it rattles and breaks as he struggles for breath. It is such a contrast to how he used to sound: a booming voice that could be hears throughout the house, brimming with joy and a distinct sense of mischief. It is saddening to see this pale imitation of the man I once called 'Papa' but if my plan works, that man will be back; with his boisterous nature and the twinkle in his eye.

'How are you feeling?' I am genuinely concerned, the glassy quality to his eyes and the rattle of his breath tell me that it's true, his condition is truly deteriorating. This is why I must go into the games.

'Top of the world, Baby girl, top of the world' I laugh mirthlessly at his poor jibe, he is quite obviously not on top of the world yet here he is trying to play down his illness, to protect me as he always has. I tap my foot, he truly believes he can pull the wool over my eyes; I am 17 years of age, practically an adult; but to him I will always be his 'Baby Girl.

'Nice to know Papa, now I'm going to meet my friends. Goodbye' I turn to go, allowing my father to get his much needed rest; as I stand in the doorway I hear him call out in his feeble voice.

'See you later' I nod my head briskly and rush down the stairs to exit my house; how was I supposed to tell him he wouldn't see me later? How could I say it could be weeks before I see him again or the fact that the next time he sees me, I could be in a wooden box? I try to shake these melancholic thoughts from my head as I walk briskly down the cobbled streets towards Claudia's home.

I knock on the door of Claudia's home, the faded red paint standing out in sharp relief to the white bricks. Suddenly, the door swings open and there stands Claudia; I take note of the bruise blossoming on the underside of her jaw, a vivid purple.

'Claudy, what happened this time?' I raise my eyebrow. It seems that Claudia has gotten herself into yet another fight was it too much to ask that she remains out of trouble for one day. It sure seems so.

'It was that bitch Yelena, thinking she can talk about me. I mean, who is she? The useless, good for nothing...' I just let her rant; when Claudia got into full steam there was nothing or nobody that could stop her. Sure, she was loud, obnoxious and quick to let the fists fly but she was my best friend and I really wouldn't want to change her. Even if I did spend more than half of my time breaking apart fights. By the time her rant had reached its epic conclusion we were already at Jordan's. He was waiting for us, gesturing wildly at the battered watch on his wrist.

'Talk about being late girls' He smiles to show us that he is joking but his comment sets Claudia off, yet again.

'Oh, shut up. You don't know long it takes a girl to get ready; looking as good as we do. It doesn't happen by accident. Does it?' I nod my head, a smile blooming onto my full lips: there was nothing I found more amusing than seeing somebody squirm. Jordan was bouncing from foot to foot, his face becoming a glowing shade of puce.

'You both look phenomenal, seriously' he splutters out, understanding the need to calm Claudia. But I take his compliment graciously; I think my outfit is rather nice, and perfect for the first phase of my plan once it is put into action: The soft green dress makes my pale skin glow and my soft auburn tresses appear more vibrant and glossy; the leather belt that cinches at my waist draws attention to my narrows waist, making me appear more feminine and in my opinion, fragile. I have lined my eyes with a fine white powder to make my icy blue eyes appear wider and more child like and my plump lips have been coloured a bright scarlet.

As we continue on our way to the town square people nod at me, smiling. I hear their whispers: 'Such a sweet girl' 'Oh it's a terrible shame with her father being so ill'. I am so tempted to laugh, I never thought myself as a good actress but it seems I had under estimated myself. These fools really bought into the whole sweet little girl act I had been playing. I really don't think I belong here in district 5, seeing as nobody seems to possess a brain. I tune back into the conversation as Jordan seems to be finishing an anecdote which involved a peacekeeper and surprisingly a singing cat, I really worry about Jordan at times. We sign in and head towards our designated sectors, me and Claudia are discussing her favourite topic: boys, as the Mayor babbles on about the failed rebellion.

'So, supposedly Georgia is saying that Henri is the hottest boy. The slag, I mean yes he is Ok but have you seen the arms on Tristan lately? Humph, what I wouldn't do' I really would like to be able to trouble myself with such teenage trivia but I am the girl who is contemplating entering an arena with 23 other people, all of whom will try and make sure I don't leave said arena with a pulse. The time is almost upon me, I begin to tug at the hem of my dress and look around frantically; my face arranged into a perfect expression of terror; with my eyes wide, lips apart and turned down into a frown. I am the image of a girl terrified of being reaped, if only they knew. Georgiana Hertz slithers on the stage, her lime green hair teased into a bee hive and her yellow skin making her appears as if she is suffering from jaundice, these Capitolites and their ridiculous fashions never cease to amaze me. She seems to be taking her sweet time as she simpers to the audience, her dainty hand hovering over the paper slips housed in the crystal bowl. I will her to pick my name out; I am willing it to happen. She snatches one up and moves towards the microphone centre stage before simpering in her sickly sweet voice:

'Welcome, welcome district 5. The games this year promises to be one of the most exciting, so may the odds be ever in your favour. Now, for the lucky girl who will represent this glorious district is...'

Seriously, does this imbecile need to pause for dramatic effect; I am considering what will happen if my name isn't called. Do I volunteer? I can see my perfectly constructed plan falling to pieces before my very eyes. But it seems these worries were unnecessary.

'Autumn Thorn'

This is it, time to put the plan in action; I wail, my voice cracking as if to emphasize my pain and grief and without waiting I begin to scream as I push my way through the bodies of people gathered. Running for the forest lines, I hear the peacekeepers behind me shouting for me to stop, as if. I slow my pace though as I had been getting further and further ahead of the peacekeepers. Really? These men, who cannot catch a 17 year old girl, are those employed to enforce the law? I then collapse to the floor and begin to shout out, my voice capturing the tone of terror perfectly.

'No, no, this cannot be happening not me' the peacekeepers drag me to my feet and I am thrown over a mans shoulder and our procession is heading towards the stage; I hear it again, the whispers:' Oh the poor soul' 'won't last two minutes' I have to work hard to prevent the smirk gracing my lips, so far the plan is working perfectly. I am dropped unceremoniously onto the stage by the peacekeepers and I continue to cry, scream and plea with anyone willing to listen:

'No, please. It can't happen. I don't want to die. Please, somebody help me' My cries threaten to drown out Georgiana's voice as she readdresses the audience; I don't look for my family in the crowd, to see their shock at my antics. But as I look around, tears streaming down my face I cannot help but think what everybody will think when I am crowned Victor, when I reveal myself not as the coward who sobs fruitlessly on stage but as a ruthless, killing machine. I cover my face with my hands as this thought brings a smile to my face.

Goodbyes, the word seems so final; so I decide to not have these goodbyes at all. It will upset my friends and family but I cannot risk exposing my facade to anyone yet. It's not as if they'll never see me again, I am going to win these games; my actions appear selfish but I cannot help but think that if I saw my family and friends cry, mourn my loss before I'm dead my resolve will shatter. It has taken me 5 years to formulate this plan and I'll be damned before I let my sister's tears or my mothers words of comfort get in the way of my victory. In the way of me, Autumn Thorn, saving my father's life.

Boom, there goes Miss. Autumn Thorn (although her name was meant to be auburn but I changed it by accident, SORRY) courtesy of the amazing AshBuggy :D who has another tribute in my motley bunch. So, your thoughts on Autumn? Love her? Hate her? Whatever it is, let me know.

Thanks xxx