Chapter 1

I live in a small town called Primrose. It's quite far away from where I grew up, in the remnants of District 2. My father tells me that it used to be called District 12, it was his home before the war. He said that most of the town was destroyed during the rebellion, bombed by Capitol aircrafts. Almost two-thirds of the population died in those bombings, people my father had grown up with, people he knew. When the war was over, the town was rebuilt by returning locals.

Thats what my father told me anyway. Apparently he played a big role in the rebellion, but he refuses to talk about it. When it was over he helped plan the new government, a system that hasn't yet failed us. That's how he met my mother. She was wonderful and I know that he loved her a lot, we both did. When she got sick it was really hard on him. He quit his fancy job and did everything to try and make her better. But she died anyway. That's why we moved to Primrose.

"Dad? It's past noon already. You promised you'd come and check my snares with me today," I whispered, poking him in the back. Receiving a slight groan, I tried again, "Mr Gale Hawthorne, I demand that you get out of bed right now!". Nothing.

Sometimes I felt bad for my dad. It was almost like he wasn't there at all. He was lonely without my mum, even if the lady who owned the soap shop was quite fond of him. I mean, he's not hideous or anything. He was blessed with olive skin, grey eyes and dark hair. I look a lot like my dad, apart from the bright green eyes I'd inherited from my mother.

Also like my dad, I loved hunting. Back in District 2, he taught me how to make snares. There was something so intricate about it and it was something I was naturally good at. Having been in Primrose for almost two months already, my snare route was almost faultless. I spent nearly every day in the woods, practicing, hunting, coming up with new trap designs. I didn't know any of the other teenagers here, but with the school term fast approaching it was only a matter of time.

Giving up on my father, I grabbed my game bag and headed towards the fence surrounding Primrose. Pushing the gate open, I began my route, heading towards my first snare. It's not illegal to hunt in Primrose, but they prefer having a fence to keep animals out. My father tells me that when he lived here before, there was an electric fence surrounding District 12 and hunting outside the fence was punishable by death.

Descending upon my first snare, I noticed a medium sized rabbit trapped under the net. Pulling out a knife from my back pocket, I flip the blade so it's pointing towards the rabbit. I didn't always kill my game, sometimes I set it free. Today, however, I planned to sell whatever I got to the lady next door, two gold pieces each. I wanted to save up to buy something nice to wear on the first day of school. Retrieving the rabbit, I reset the snare and continued along my route.

Sitting back on a rock, I examined my game. Three squirrels, two rabbits and a basket full of berries. Not bad. I grinned at the idea of making some fresh, berry jam when I got home. Slowly getting to my feet, I hear a surprised yelp of pain coming from the direction of my next snare. Quickly grabbing my game bag, I run towards my next trap. Pulling my knife out, I prepare myself for something big. A deer perhaps? Or maybe a wild boar. Instead, a boy hung by his feet from a tree, panic clear across his features as he struggled to get free. He looked around my age, maybe older.

"It's not going to work," I laughed, "That snare is designed to trap the animal and let it struggle to death. It's impossible to break free". The boy turned to me, clearly alarmed. Meeting my eye, he raised an eyebrow and tried to pull himself up to free his legs, as if challenging me. In one swift movement, he flopped back down into a hanging position. Smirking, I cut the rope and watched as he fell to the ground with a thud.

"I'm Alec," he grinned sheepishly, pulling himself to his feet. He was very tall and I had to crane my neck to look at him. He was quite attractive, with messy blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Brenna," I smiled, bending down to reset the snare. He nodded, quietly observing me as I fastened the rope back into position. Standing up, I leaned casually against the tree.

"Hunting?" he asked, his forehead creasing slightly.

"Yeah. I'm spending as much time as I can out here before school starts, you?"

"Same," he agreed, slinging up his bow over his shoulder. Walking over to my game bag, he examined the contents.

"Impressive," he commented, passing the bag over to me.

"Anyways, I should go. I still have to finish my route," I managed, feeling my cheeks heat up. Waving a quick goodbye, I continued down my trail.

Had I just made a friend? Probably not. Knowing my luck, even if we did cross paths again, he wouldn't remember me. After walking for a while, I spotted a beehive. It had been a while since I'd had honey and I pondered at the thought of honey with my jam. I had never taken honey from a hive by myself before, but I had watched my father multiple times.

Approaching the hive, I hear a low buzz. Slowly reaching towards it, a huge swarm of bees swept from within it. Staggering backwards, I ran like crazy through the woods. Coming across a lake, I dive in without hesitation. I stay under the water for ages, feeling like I might pass out. When I eventually come up, I take in a huge breath of air, ready to duck under the water again, but the bees had moved on.

Swimming to shore, I pulled myself out of the water. Looking around, I realised that I had no idea where I was. I had dropped my game bag somewhere along the way. I slumped against a rock in defeat.

Sitting on the brim of the lake, I noticed a familiar bird perched on a nearby branch. I could tell immediately what it was. The way it sung gave it away, as well as the white patches under its black wings. It's a mockingjay. As if sensing my interest, more mockingjays land on the branch. Deciding to sing 'The Valley Song', I hope the birds will join in.

"Down in the valley,

The valley so low

Hang your head over,

Hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow,

Dear, hear the wind blow;"

By now, the birds have started singing the song as well. I sit there for a while listening to the birds, before joining in again.

"Hang your head over,

Hear the wind blow.

Roses love sunshine..."

Hearing a twig snap behind me, I whip my head around to see Alec standing frozen behind a thin tree.

"I thought that if I hid then you would keep singing," he admitted, coming out from behind the tree. "Why are you all wet?"

What should I tell him? I certainly didn't want to tell him that I'd failed to steal honey from a hive and in turn got chased by bees. Even though it is true, I didn't want him to think I was totally hopeless.

"Where did you find my game bag?" I asked, averting his question. He smirked.

"You dropped it while being chased by a swarm of bees," he laughed. Great. He not only knows what happened, but he saw the whole thing.

Expecting a smartass remark, I prepare my ego for the blow. Instead he takes me by surprise. His eyebrows narrow and his forehead creases.

"Are you okay, Brenna?"

He remembers my name. Maybe he might be a friend after all.