A cold wind swept over the burnt earth, scaring small rodents that were trying to find a hiding place.
That just made the girl sitting nearby smile sadly. It seemed no one had it easy in times like these. She watched them scurry down the hill, taking in the scenery. There used to be endless forests stretching in every direction... Or at lest that's what her mother told her. It was hard to imagine, sitting there, seeing only blackened tree stumps among the sea of ashes.
She didn't remember much from the war. All she knew were stories passed only by the word of the mouth. Stories of war. Of bombs, fires and destruction. Her father and older brother whom she never met going away... She couldn't even remember the point at which her mother lost the last grain of hope that they'll ever come back.
But not everything was lost. She smiled at the thought, seeing the first green specks poking their heads from the devastated earth. Somehow, the gentle seeds managed to survive all that had been done to them, and now were finally turning into plants. They would grow, and in fifty, sixty or even a hundred years, again there will be forests streatching as far as an eye could see. The nature survived, and so did they. Her mother was still with her, and they had still many years in front of them.
A sudden cry torn her from her thoughts, and she turned just in time to spot a falcon flying away with one of the mice she was watching a moment ago held firmly in it's claws. She sighed, all thoughts of a better life going away with the falcon, bringing her back to the present. To this day.
Today, was her twelfth birthday. Usually it meant fun and celebration. With the life they had, another year alive really meant something. Especially for the elders and the kids. But not her birthday. At least, not any more.
Three years ago her birthday became a hated day. It didn't even matter that the custom was introduced recently. She could see it in everyone's eyes. Pity, sadness and sometimes even anger. For all intents and purposes, even if no one said it out loud, she became the girl born on the Reaping day.
"Mary Ann!" he mother's voice rang over the hill, sounding in this instance much more eerie than the soft and loving sound she knew so well.
"Coming..." she muttered, her bad mood deepening as she stood up from the stone she was sitting on and started to climb the hill. Compared to what she was about to witness, even the burned out forest seemed to be a pleasant picture.
Her mother was waiting for her in front of the house. It was clear that she was crying. Still, she was trying to be brave for both of them. She didn't say anything. Probably because she didn't trust her voice, but on the other hand, there wasn't much place for words either. Saying that it will be alright wouldn't convince anyone. Not on this day.
Everything that had to be said was right there, in her eyes. All the sadness, fear and loss she felt. In the end, she mustered one single sad smile and kissed her on the forehead, before finally making the first step.
There was no hiding just how tense she was, making each step stiffly, as if it hurt her physically. It wasn't enough that it was Reaping day. It was the first Reaping her little girl would be included in.
They walked throught the village holding their hands, comforting each other with little squeezes.
Village. That was kind of an overstatement, Marry thought, looking at the buildings which she passed many times before, but only not seemed to notice. Only couple of buildings were still habitable. The rest was either destroyed, or barely standing, reluctant to collapse into a pile of rubble.
That was probably the only hobby people had in the village. Betting just when another building will fall. Sometimes, a person who won wasn't there anymore to collect the prize. Probably it happened more often than not.
After the last smoke cleared from the sky, a man with Imperial sigil came to their village. Or was it King's emblem? She didn't know for sure. No one seemed to care just who ruled the country. There were more pressing matters that everyone had on their mind. Food, fresh water, shelter just to name some.
But that didn't stop the man from coming. He said that there were mine shafts in the hills, and, just like that, every able man became a miner. At first everyone was happy. Prospect of food for the job they did made everyone's day. Well, that was before the first accident. It seemed that without any training, experience or even proper tools, coal mining wasn't the easiest thing to do.
Saying nothing about minimal rations they got in return.
When they got to the city square, Mary was reminded just how small their community was.
Instantly, her gaze fell on the building that, with every passing day, was slowly growing out of the earth. She didn't knew what it was supposed to be. A keep? Emperor's summer house? A new town hall? Looking at the large boulders it used in it's construction, only one thing was sure for her. It was mean to last an eternity.
Aside from it, there were only burned out wreckages surrounding them. No one lived in the city any more, keeping to their huts. Gathered like that, right next to the growing colossus and in the centre of what could be called an empty field, the small group of people seemed even more pitiful than usual. Sometimes it seemed that they were slowly dying out. They were barely able to keep their population level.
She knew that it was bad to think that way, but sometimes she was glad that there were so few of them. More people would mean less food for everyone. As it was now, saying goodbye to someone and not meeting them in the morning was a common occurrence. To common for anyone's standards.
She looked over the small group of malnourished, dirty and beaten down people, knowing too well that she was one of them. And in this sea of faces as destroyed as the earth they lived on, immediately, they stood out. Dressed in their clean clothes with that emblem of power, they watched, leering, snarling and sneering at the crowd slowly dribbling into the plaza.
The Army.
That's how they called themselves. Not that it fooled anyone. Everyone knew who they truly were. Murderers. People who stayed at the back during the wars, scavenging the spoils of war, and came out only when any kind of person able to fight became a luxury resource.
Mary watched them, and her thoughts drifted to the man who became their ruler. Some said he was mad, showing just how many deaths he brought. Others thought that he had to be a genius if he was able to control the mess of a world they lived in. But, watching the men he commanded, seeing that he could control even them, Mary was sure of one thing. He was certainly someone to look out for.
A loud sound reverberating in space made her aware that it was beginning. She looked towards the unfinished structure, and saw a woman standing on the platform, right next to the microphone. Nearby was a man with a camera.
Mary often heard that when her grandmother was her age, those were common things. Nowadays, it was hard to find something that worked. Still, they always brought those strange devices to show what was happening here to people far, far away.
"Let us begin," the woman said through the speakers, gaining everyone's attention..
There was no need to do any counting. They were sure enough that everyone was there. In the end, all they wanted were tributes. If only two eligible kids came, they would take them without the lottery. That's why it's the people who keep the tally. If someone refused to come, they wouldn't have the sweetest life when the town's people got to them. Army wasn't needed to keep order. They were here only to stop anyone from changing their mind after the slips were already picked.
The woman walked swiftly towards the ball holding one part of the names, her expression alone stating that she wanted to get it done as soon as possible. She picked one name, broke the seal as she returned to the microphone.
"Marry Ann Swiftwater."
She just said it. Without much thought, deliberation or emotion. The woman simply called a name, like she was checking attendance in class. How much more off-handedly you can state a death sentence?
Mary thought about that, until the squeezing on her hand didn't start to be painful. She turned to look at her mother, but when she noticed her standing there, with eyes closed and slightly shaking her head in denial, the name finally registered in her mind.
Her eyes went wide, and she threw glanced every other way. The dogs of war were already on their way, sniffing for the one that reeked of fear the most. Someone gave her a push, and that was enough to make her go, run, like in the worst nightmare, trying to get away from the devils hunting her.
But when she got to the stage, when she climbed the steps, it didn't end. She didn't wake up, and there was no one waiting with their hands open to save her. The nightmare continued, with the woman boring into her with that impatient gaze, urging her to hurry up to the chopping block.
Although her legs felt like if they were lead, she managed to move them, coming right next to the woman, one small step at a time. There, she had her first glance at the crowd, and it was enough to tell her that her fate was decided.
There was no one who would look at her. She recalled how she, herself, lowered her gaze every time she saw a tribute picked. Now, seeing it from the other end, it chilled her to the bone and she prayed for at least one person who would look at her. To meet someone's eyes and not feel so alone. But she knew the custom. The silent goodbye. They were thinking of her how she used to be, locking her in their memory.
From the moment she set her foot on the stage, she wasn't theirs any more. She was gone, and she would never return. She knew it was easier that way...
Loud thumbs of heavy boots hitting the stone were the only sounds that permeated the silence. The woman passed her and made couple of steps towards the second bowl...
Only to be blown away when something hit the exact spot. The crash, as if a sudden explosion struck nearby, was enough to make Mary drop to the floor and protect her head with her hands. When she mustered enough strength to pry her eyes open, the world seemed to be full of cards hanging in the air. Through that mist she managed to take glimpses of the chaos outside.
Everyone was watching something on the stage, with the army frantically trying to get to the stage. What were they all looking at? Mary asked herself, and when she turned, her gaze fell on the boy – no, man – standing right above her. His body was built like a man's, but, then why did he have a girl's face?
It took some time for her stressed brain to conclude that what she was staring at wasn't a face, but a white mask, smooth to the point that it could act as a mirror. Where did he come from? That question ended her stupor, and she started looking around again.
He couldn't have come from the crowd, and there weren't any stairs on either side of the stage... Her eyes widened. The crash, as if something smashed the bowl... She looked to the walls of the unfinished building they were in front of. Had he just jumped of the scaffolding?
A hand gripping her arm was as sudden and unexpected as being picked up firmly, but gently. She haven't noticed what really happened, having to chatch herself when she nearly fell, unsteady on her feet over the sudden position change.
"I hope I'm not too late," the man stated as if he dropped in for a cup of tea. Although he was whispering, his voice seemed to reach everyone in the crowd. But that could be due the complete silence that fell upon the plaza. Even the army men who previously seemed so tough stopped at that.
"Who are you?" the woman leading the show asked, "I demand you show your face!"
The man turned from the crowd to look at her.
"If you wish so," he said in the same whisper, placing the hood of his traveling coat on his head.
Even while standing right next to him, Mary couldn't see a thing. That probably was fortunate, since the woman that previously was so adamant, suddenly turned green and stumbled couple of steps back, showing that there was a good reason why the man wore his mask.
"There was..." the man stopped, weighting his words. With his mask in place again, he turned to get a good glance at her, "An explosion," he finished.
Then he bent towards the pile of glass that remained from the ball, and picked something up. He presented the slip to the woman, and, although reluctantly, she took it, breaking the seal quickly and looking at the name suspiciously.
"John Smith," she read in the end.
Mary frowned at that. She didn't knew the guy. Even thought methane explosions happened, it wasn't probable for anyone to survive it. And then there was the name. Her mother often joked that it was the most common name anyone could come up with.
But if everyone came to the same conclusion as she did, then why no one said anything... She thought and immediately reminded herself of where she was.
The Reaping.
She looked towards the crowd again, and was shocked to see that everyone was staring at the newcomer. No one would say anything. One less child they knew would get killed this year. A stranger agreeing to get slaughtered was a blessing that didn't happen often enough to pass it.
The only reward he would ever get from that was that look. The acknowledgement. We see what you do and we appreciate it. We will remember.
"Coming?" that mysterious whisper startled her, and she noticed the person who claimed to be John Smith, standing nearby, with his masked face tilted in a curious way, the only indication that he was looking at her. She frowned, following him off the stage and towards the station.
He didn't acknowledge them, and she was too confused to remember about the men who were supposed to represent power, trailing behind them. She simply followed the man walking in front of her, as if he was on a pleasant stroll, while her mind swirled with questions.