KAPOWWW! Okay then, we're off to District 5 now, revisiting Autumn Thorn and our newest tribute! ;) We're nearing the end of the reapings but I think I should give you a fair warning: We still have quite a while until the games actually begin… I want to develop the plot and give insight to each character before they all end up trying to kill one another…

Now thanks to:

Dinashadow for Galen Agretto

AND

Ash Buggy for Autumn Thorn

Galen Agretto, District 5.

I apply the thick paste I had concocted from lavender and aloe vera, the roots of such plants are a valuable asset when treating minor burns; I then scantily apply witch hazel and elderflower to reduce the inflammation and eradicate any chance of infection. I apply a cold compress; it should soothe the pain and promote a quicker rate of healing. I the wrap the arm with a gauze bandage before lifting my eyes; Artie Volenz, the elderly man and my most frequent visitor seeing as he cannot seem to go a day without obtaining some form of injury.

'Artie, what have I told you? You need to be more careful, you're not as young as you once were. On day, some little bump will be the death of you' I take note that my husky voice has taken on the soothing quality it does whenever I'm in the presence of one of my, or my mother's, 'patients'. My mother is constantly reminding me that a good bedside manner is one of the most important parts of becoming a healer and seeing as she is the best of the profession here in District 5 I take heed of any advice she shares with me.

'Oh Galen, I'm only as old as I feel; and I feel as young as you. I'm clumsy but with you and your Mam here to patch me back up there is nothing to worry about is there?' I am very flattered that Artie seems to have so much confidence in mine and my mother's abilities; but we cannot work miracles, I'll just have to keep an eye on Mr. Volenz to make sure he doesn't do serious damage to himself any time soon.

'Well, thank you for the vote of confidence but I don't want to see you here again for a week. Now, remember to apply the burn salve twice a day: Once when you wake up, and then again just before bed. If you have any questions just pop right over and if it flares up make sure you pop in at your earliest convenience.' I just feel so at home when I'm working around medicine; there is an old saying that healers are born and not made, I agree with this statement whole heartedly. I didn't choose to become a healer at all, it just happened: I spent hours of my youth simply watching my mother as she would heal anyone's injuries, whether they were minor cuts or gruesome infections; I was amazed by how intricate her willowy fingers could move, the dexterity she possessed and then how the plants that grow in the nearby meadow have so many medicinal purposes. Becoming my mother's healing apprentice has been my greatest achievement to day, to have the opportunity to learn more in the arts of healing is an offer that one could not simply turn down however much it may annoy others.

'Oh, alright; if anything goes wrong I'll pop back' Artie has pulled on his ratty blue fleece and is shuffling out of the door; leaving me alone in the kitchen, however prominent me and mother are in regards to our healing practices we cannot afford to rent a space to work in. All of our healing activities take place in our own kitchen or if our patient is unable to come, we make house visits. I owe so much to my mother, and however cheesy the sentiment sounds: she has made me into the young man I am today. She has nurtured all of the traits that I am proud of: my observant nature, the ability to notice even the tiniest details is essential in a diagnosis and it extends to reading body language; you see a competent healer should be able to see when their patient is lying, if they aren't truthful about their symptoms it could lead to a misdiagnosis and if that was to happen it could lead to some dire consequences. In all honesty most of what I needed to excel in this profession has been instilled since I was a child: compassion, dedication to helping those in need and a meticulous approach to all that I do is just apart of me, my intuition just flickers when there is someone in need.

My moment of silent reflection is disturbed by the shrill chime of a bell, the mark that someone has arrived; I turn to find that Mariella Houston is walking into the kitchen with a gentle smile on her pretty features, there have been a lot of rumours that we are more than simply 'friends' as we claim; although she is a fine example of what anyone would look for in a young lady with her porcelain skin, ash blonde hair and large amber eyes but the nature of our relationship is platonic; it is true that we're inseparable but we are and only ever will be the best of friends.

'Ah! Mari, how're you today? And why do I owe the pleasure of your company?' I lower my voice, allowing it to escape as a husky rasp; although we're friends we do maintain a rapport which more often than not leads to a bit of harmless flirting. Mari starts to giggle and slaps me on the arm, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

'Well, how could I resist spending a moment in the presence of someone so, glorious…God like?' She quirks her eyebrow to show the joking nature of her response; the girl does know how to play along and I'm guessing that our flirtatious exchanges may be the reason that some of the townsfolk think we're romantically involved.

'Nice one, I particularly liked the 'God like', so how's Gord?' Although to some people it sounds strange, me enquiring after her dog's welfare; it's a private joke between us. Mari and I have only been friends for 3 years and the reason of that friendship is Gord, her little terrier went and got himself hit by a wagon and Mari brought him to me; desperate for me to try and save him. Luckily, he had only broken a bone and I was able to set and plaster it in almost no time but Mari was so grateful and we've been great friends since.

'As good as always since you fixed him up' Mari winked, and moved over to sit down opposite me, she looked around before turning back to me; her eyes playful.

'So what's a girl around here got to do to get a drink?' As charming as always, I just laughed as I went over to the iron kettle. In no time we were around the table, exchanging the banter that seems to come naturally in our friendship; she was filling me on the local teenage gossip: the loose canon that is Claudia Noon, the girl is quite likely insane; she's always caught up in some argument and then throwing her fists like there is no tomorrow. I laugh and roll my eyes in all the right places before the conversation is brought back onto me.

'So, Galen…I've been hearing that words been getting out about your spectacular healing skills. Bet you're proud, I sure am. Your mother was beaming when she heard everyone paying you compliments in the tavern.' I smile, it truly is nice to hear that people are grateful for the work that I do; but that doesn't erase the hurt that I've carried with me since I informed my father, Adrian Agretto, of my plans to become a professional healer. He allowed me to do it as first, like a hobby but he always thought I'd end up working in one of the power stations: real mans work, as he calls it. I once told Mari about father's opinions and her response was certainly entertaining: she told me to just ignore him, he's a Neanderthal and doesn't understand; you can always count on Mari to feel better.

I hear the bell chime yet again, my mother walks into the kitchen; she looks a lot like or so they say, with the difference being that she is a woman and I am a man, well soon to be. We both have almond shaped eyes, hers a warm chocolate brown and mine so grey they appear almost silver in colour; we both have smoky brown hair, which falls in gentle waves and mine reaches the nape of my neck. We both have an olive complexion and seem to be rather tall, standing at 5'11'' I am taller than most men here in 5; our district seems to turn out shorter males. She rushes over and gives me a hug, I am a bit shocked as my mother is usually quite reserved and isn't acclaimed for displays of affection; but I love my mother so I return her hug.

'I've just bumped into Artie, you've done great with the burn; I couldn't have actually done a better job myself, so I've brought you a little something' She holds out what she was holding: a garment bag and a bag full of books. I smile, we're not poor but to have so many gifts at once is such a rarity.

'Thank you Mom.'

Hours later and I'm on my way to the reaping, and although I detest arrogance I may be walking with a spring in my step; I am wearing my new clothes: A pastel blue shirt and smart black dress trousers; I look very good, however pretentious it may sound and it may sound stupid but wearing these new clothes I am infused with a new sense of confidence. I smile and wave at people I notice in the crowd, past patients of mine; in no time at all the reaping ceremony is underway. Although it sounds cliché, as a healer I have learnt how precious human life is and to see life wasted is something that appals me; these games are brutal and so crude, I can think of many other ways for the Capitol to remind us of their dominance without the need of seeing 23 children die annually. I tend to ignore what happens at the reapings, since I oppose the whole sentiment behind the games: the death, deceit and betrayal; but my attention is brought onto the proceedings when I hear the name of the female tribute.

'Autumn Thorn' From there all hell breaks loose, the girl fights her way through the crowd and is running away as fast as her legs can take her, screaming in anguish; the sight horrifies me this girl is completely helpless, she is petrified and guaranteed death, most likely in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. She is begging for people to help her but what are we to do? If anyone takes action to try and save her then they will die; however much it irks me, in our current political climate it is every person for themselves. Nobody will volunteer, we're District 5 but I feel a pang in my chest when I see someone so young and so full of life broken and sentenced to death. As she is dragged past, thrashing in the arms of 4 Peacekeepers I catch her eyes, streaming tears and I close my eyes to try and dispel the image of her, seeming so shattered. The poor girl is then thrown onto the stage and our escort, Georgiana Hertz, looks upon her disdainfully. I feel like telling this woman that she should shut up, how someone with green hair and blindingly yellow skin can look down on anyone, I'll never know; this Capitolite looks more like a citrus fruit than she does human.

Autumn Thorn, it just hits me then; her father was caught in an explosion at the power plant, although physically he recovered his other symptoms refused to alleviate despite my mother's most intense efforts: his hacking cough would refuse to go, as would the sickness and the erratic heartbeat. As a healer, it is hard to label someone a lost cause but the poor man is lucky to still be alive and this Autumn girl is his daughter; I haven't personally encountered the girl, we're the same age and I'm sure we've probably shared classes but she has always seemed to fade into the background but I've always been told she was such a sweet girl. This isn't what someone so sweet deserves: A death sentence. I'm so caught up in my whirring thoughts of injustice and the absurdity of the Hunger Games that I barely hear the name of the male tribute, it's like a whisper but it snaps me into reality for it's me, that Hertz lady has called my name.

'Galen Agretto' No, this cannot be happening; in all honesty I feel like mimicking Autumn's actions and trying to run but it wouldn't help me in anyway, this is a game and however I may despise it I've been drafted in to play and I'm determined to win or die trying. I take a deep breath and then stand as tall as I possibly can. I walk through the crowd, my face a mask of indifference; I will give neither the Capitol nor the Career tributes the pleasure of seeing my fear. I can do this, I repeat this to myself as a mantra; hoping to maintain some sense of decorum. And then it becomes a blur, the strain of trying to maintain this façade is taking its toll but thankfully the ceremony is reaching its conclusion and we're being lead to the Justice Building.

I'm standing in this room, decked out with the most luxurious décor; I cannot help but be a little angered at the Capitol and the ruling class here in District 5: splashing out on stupid frivolities like ornate clocks and velvet cushions when the same amount of money could afford so much medical merchandise: ointments that can clear burns in a matter of hours; tablets which are able to erase infections instantaneously. I shake my head at the stupidity of it all. My first visitor's crash through the door, my family are all wearing expressions of sorrow; it would be a lie for me to say I'm not a little dejected seeing that they all seem to be mourning already.

'Gay, try your hardest. No matter what.' My youngest sister, Ida flies into my arms; at only 4 she realises she may never see me again and I feel my earlier anger beginning to flare yet again: what kind of world is it when someone so young is capable of understanding something like the Hunger Games, what kind of world steals the bliss that is childhood innocence?

'I will Ida, you know I'm not going to go away without a fight' I can't bring myself to say 'die' because it isn't a death; not some natural ailment will extinguish my life force: it isn't death that awaits me, it is cold blooded murder. I open my arms further and my two other sisters rush into my arms; consumed with their grief they cannot formulate words, instead they cling to me with such ferocity that I find myself struggling to breathe. How can I lose? I need to be here for these three girls. How would Ida, Luisa and Alice survive without me? I have no doubts that my parents would put food on the table, and provide all the emotional support that three young girls would ever need; but I cannot help but think that they do need me, even if it is only to be the stereotypical big brother scaring away any boy who dares try to pursue any of my little cherubs. I am getting overly sentimental, is that some strange side effect of being reaped?

'Girls, I think you should leave, me and your father have some important things to discuss with your brother' my mother's voice is not harsh at all, being the consummate healer that she is though; her voice possesses a quiet authority that not many people are able to command. Somehow though, my mother is able to command such a quiet authority with ease and my sister's give me one final squeeze before departing; not before Alice, my quietist sister presses something into my hand and I press it into my pocket for later inspection. My sisters leave the room but not before giving me one final hug and telling me how much they love me, it gives me a newfound strength: a determination to win.

'So, what important things do we have to discuss?' It sound rude, but I know it must be something important; plus I am still a bit upset my sister's had to leave, I don't know when or even if I will ever see them again. My parents seem a little shocked by my blunt question but rearrange their features into encouraging smiles; even my father, who has done nothing but remind me how my career choice is not masculine in the sense and that I am nothing to be proud of. Mother rushes forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

'Time is running out Galen, Mari is still waiting to visit but I want you to know; as a healer you object as much to the loss of human life as myself but if you are to do the great things I know you can, you need to win. However unethical this sounds, how important are the lives of 23 people in comparison to the hundreds if people you can save in the future' as always my mother is able to address the one thing which has silently tormented me since I was reaped, how am I meant to kill someone, even if it is for my own survival. My father then steps forward, for once showing an emotion rather than disappointment; he places his hand on my shoulder.

'Son, I know I have never told you how much I love you, or how proud I am so I can't waste time crying that you probably won't ever return; so I offer you advice, my advice is that medicines can be used as poisons. You're a good man, but to win you've got to do whatever you can, attack while they sleep. You're a good lad it shouldn't be hard to get sponsors.' I'm shocked, I know that father has very rarely been proud of me, but he has given me valuable advice which I intend to act upon but it seems for once as if he does love me, I feel as if I'm on cloud nine but soon I'm dragged back to reality when I realise that my time is waning quickly. My parents leave with promises that they are to wait for me, and I am smiling as they leave: pumped for everything to be over and done with.

Mari bursts through the door, a determined glint in those green eyes of hers; she gives me a quick hug and then steps back. She is staring at me blankly as if she cannot comprehend what is happening, I understand her confusion; unlike many of those here in District 5 I have never had to sign up for tessarae unlike so many others: My name was in that reaping bowl less than some 12 year olds but it's happened and my major concern now is somehow surviving the arena.

'Gord says good luck and I know you haven't got much time but Galen I want you to at least try, we may be only best friends but I can't imagine life without coming to annoy you at least once a day' she wears a sad smile, but I chuckle at her words: best friends forever may sound girly but I would like to come home to spend each day being annoyed by my closest friend and the pointless small talk this entails. What is it about being reaped that makes you such a sentimental fool? I try to respond but words fail me, it hits me that I have to go and fight for my life; all these seemingly unimportant things seem much more of matter than usual when you consider that you're about to go without knowing you'll return.

'Galen, I've got to go now but remember no matter what: we're all proud and I think you stand a shot at winning. What would we all do without those healing hands of yours?' I smile at her poor choice of words, but her sentiment remains the same: she wants me to return and that is another thing which gives me a reason to win. Mari leaves soon after, but one thing that seems to haunt me was when she talked about my so called 'healing hands', it's true that my hands: smooth and dextrous are the hands of someone who has spent hours trying to repair. These are not the hands of a killer but I must say I need to return home so, if I am to win these must become the hands of a killer. But I can't help but think: how do your turn healing hands into the hands of a killer?

Autumn Thorn, District 5.

Well, although I'm disheartened that I wasted my chance of saying goodbye I am proud in one sense: although I may die, my plan is working perfectly so far and I am one step closer to winning and getting that medicine for my father, my 'Papa'. I am a little annoyed that everything was so quick to believe the 'weak and pathetic' façade I've assumed; is that what people really expect of me? Well, they'll be eating their words when I return as the Victor of the 62nd Hunger Game; On the other hand, I should be glad they believe my little lie: it shows that my acting skills have been perfect in creating this person. I am slumped and crying as I'm escorted to the train, the Peacekeepers muttering as to how pathetic I am and how I'm destined to become 'yet another bloodbath'. This is going to be easy; everyone will be embarrassed when they see that I am a more proficient at killing another being: It is merely a situation I will have to adapt to, and adapt I shall. How dumb will everyone feel when they realise I have fooled the nation; I am stumped as to how nobody has thought of playing the 'weakling', maybe its because nobody realises that to win some battles you must let others believe they are the Victors.

I am pushed, rather forcefully onto the train, but it doesn't concern me; I slump into compartment, collapsing onto a leather settee and becoming 'consumed with the imminence of my immediate death'; I can tell I'll become annoyed with playing the cry baby but I'm willing to do it if it results in my father's survival. I am there for what seems like hours and then some entity collapses onto the ground, I peek quickly to see who it is: Jasten Reckenberg, Victor of the 31st Hunger Games: not talented in combat or survival. This man won simply by luck, he had no strategy at all and hence I have nothing to learn from the man; I leave him in his drunken stupor, now lying with a blank expression and shivering in fear: this will portray the hopelessness they think I am thinking, or at least I hope that's what they think.

Minutes later, another figure slides into the room; Galen Agretto, my district partner. 17, looks muscular and knowledge of plants; could be trained in toxicology, don't trust anything he offers me in case it's poisoned. Well I would mark it as a threat but as I've always said, I'm talented at reading people: his eyes shine with innocence, a kindness which is not the mark of a murderer. He'll die, even if it wasn't for my plight to win; he is essentially too good of a person: but when I think of him dying it feels hard to describe but I feel as if I'm guilty of some cardinal sin, such feelings must be forgotten if I'm to win this thing. He takes sight of our drunken mentor and rushes to his side; babbling to himself about water and paracetomol whatever that may be. I sniffle quietly, no to draw attention to myself but just to maintain character: he quickly turns to me, surveying me with those alluring silver eyes; oh not alluring, it's just the depth of emotion is rather enrapturing. He moves forward and sits beside me, wrapping one of his muscled arms around my shoulder; a gesture meant to suggest comfort and warmth but it feels genuine with him, not as if it is just because what he thinks is the right thing to do in his current circumstance.

'Don't worry Autumn, I promise I'll try to help you; I think it'll be nice if between us we bring a Victor back to District 5, it'll be much more beneficial to 5 as a whole if there is a mentor who can stay sober long enough to bestow his 'wisdom''. I am slightly unnerved by his exceptional acting ability: it must be a lie; there are no people so selfless, well not any more. He smiles at me, I force my mouth into a nervous smile; to show that his words have affected me; it'll flatter his ego and make him more prone to manipulation; but even the thought of manipulating this boy feels wrong, it would be a much easier experience if I had a malevolent district partner.

'Y-you do-don't need to w-worry, I would never want to h-hold you back' I want to appear selfless, weak but not necessary unsociable; I know the importance of formulating alliances, at some point I may need to rely on Galen for something which may appear trivial but could very well save my life. We share a small smile, teary-eyed on my behalf.

'Autumn, I'll help you: I know you're a sweet girl so we're gonna just have to work together' He smiles at me, and I genuinely smile back. He may believe the lies I want people to believe, about my sweetness and such; but he is in an incredibly selfless boy and it repulses me that he was put into the Games the same years as I, I know that he is a healer and the world cannot afford to lose someone so pure of heart.

The scariest thing is that by hearing his husky laugh, seeing his sweet smile; I don't feel like I'm acting at all when I pretend to be the breakable one, in some alternate reality I could be the porcelain doll I so strongly resemble and he could be the Prince Charming who swoops in to save the damsel in distress. These are alien feelings, to bring factors such as attraction and such into my predicament will mess my plan up, and I need to win; this situation is one in which I do not want to adapt to, not one I genuinely think would be beneficial to my cause. I'm facing the Hunger Games, where only one person emerges as Victor; I cannot afford to imagine a Happily Ever After with Galen, it is impossible. I cannot face this now, I need time to think and re-evaluate my position: Autumn Thorn must revise her strategy, everything could be about to change.

'S-sorry, I th-think that is s-so nice but right n-now I need time to s-sit and think' I leave without directly answering any unspoken questions, I don't know how things will turn out but Galen could be useful so I will leave. I stand to leave, not before noting that neither the Escort or the female mentor have arrived; I'll face them tomorrow, right now I need space because I'm very confused. Galen Agretto has come and thrown a wrench into my finely tuned plan. I hear a sigh escape Galen's broad lips as I leave the compartment.

This is a quickly written chapter; I hope ya'll love Galen as much as I do. I am trying to get through the reapings as quickly as possible so we can see all of the tributes communicating as well as seeing what happens regarding the rebellion plot.

Review and let me know your thoughts! Xxx