By the time the two made it to the dam they were aching and exhausted. Mary complained most of the way while John ignored the pains in his leg. The trek took up half the day and the midday sun was hidden beneath the deep forest leaves. It let off an eerie feel and somehow john felt unsafe, though there was bound to be lumberjacks working a couple of miles away from them.

"I'm surprised we didn't meet trouble."

"I'm not. The peacekeepers are busy bullying everyone out of their food. Don't forget the food shortage affects them too."

"Right…" Mary said bitterly, leaning against the cold stone of the dam.

The dam was often Mary's and John's hideaway for when things became too hard to bare. The capitol foolishly thought it was guarded around the clock but the only reminder that they even owned it was the large district symbol that was painted on it when construction was complete. When they were still small children, Mary swore to John that if he pressed his ear to the dam you could hear the water murmuring on the other side. John was thoroughly disappointed when he could only feel cold stone against his ear.

There was a long silence between the two friends. They found normal conversations were a weak distraction, but talking about the reaping would not make it any easier. The worst was that it wasn't even reaping day and John feared what strange dreams the night would bring. Maybe it was childish, to be afraid of the dark, but John soon found that his fear would not be too much of a weakness.

"Well!" Mary broke John out of his thoughts so suddenly that he jumped.

"What?" John asked.

"We better see if the bushes have anything in bloom! If we come back empty-handed our parents will have our heads." Mary said leaping up suddenly and walking ahead.

John hurried after her in dismal spirits. Even with the tesserae and the scarce berries they can wrangle up many would go hungry tonight. But tonight they had an incredible windfall. Mary went home happily with her skirt full of thick blackberries, small apples, ripe strawberries, and actually found a root that John guessed was a potato. John went home with the same spoils but he let her have the potato. He wondered if he'd be able to keep down food tonight.

Miles away Sherlock Holmes was at academy. He recently turned eighteen. It would be his last reaping. His lifestyle was very different from John's. The other districts hated the careers and the careers hated Sherlock. He was what many called "freak" or "savage" just because he could outsmart them. Though they hated him, they also feared him. He was tall, lean, and dark looking. Even his bright eyes looked cold and threatening. No one could predict his thoughts yet he could predict their past, present, and future. He became somewhat of a legend thanks to the mayor of district one. Mycroft Holmes bragged about his brother often; to the point where there was so much pressure for Sherlock to volunteer for the next games that it was like a heavy boulder upon his shoulders. And he was a victor. It was Sherlock's first year being reaped and his heart sank when they called out his brother's name. And now, Mycroft was looking more attention. The capitol would be in an uproar if they were treated to the great Mycroft Holmes little brother. Sherlock couldn't care less about Mycroft's image. Unlike other careers, Sherlock found it unwise. More than proving everyone right, he loved defying the capitol. Sherlock may have stuck others as paranoid but he has gotten away with enough to make the capitol turn its ignorant little head at him. President Snow always has a way of silencing people with big heads.

While Sherlock contemplated the odds of him being in the next games he practiced hand-to-hand combat with a solitary dummy. It was late and many of the careers went home jabbering excitedly about who was going to be chosen. Sherlock's punching and kicking became fiercer with every swing until he finished with a kick so ferocious that it knocked the dummy from the ceiling and put a large slash in its side. Sherlock panted heavily as the dummy leaked sand all over the floor. Sherlock could see every weakness in every person. It would be child's play to defeat them. But he refused to be a piece in their games.

"Ah. Still practicing?"

"Fuck off, Mycroft." Sherlock's voice was deep and intimidating.

"Oh come now Sherlock, don't be that way." There was no remorse in Mycroft's voice. He sounded teasing, as if Sherlock was a toddler who needed guidance.

It infuriated him.

"What do you want?"

"To remind you to keep your head down. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop prancing around and accusing the peacekeepers of stealing-"

"I can't believe you're taking the side of that idiot. It was so obvious. Written all over his face that he was taking from the hard working. Peacekeepers are scum anyway-"

"Will you keep your voice down? You just want to pump up an impressive image with your oh-so perfect mind. Like a show off!"

"Like you and your oh-so perfect games? Stressed out?" Sherlock sneered deducting that he actually did fear the reaping tomorrow and that he's gained weight. Possibly the cakes his capitol admirers have been sending him.

"Yes. But I'm not the only one. Mummy's in a state too-"

"Oh she'll survive one more child being pawned off for this ridiculous dictator control."

"Such arrogance. You think you'll win?"

"I know I won't. Our dear president will make sure of it. You may be the only man in Panem that doesn't fear me."

Mycroft was finally silent. Sherlock was not exaggerating. With his mind he could bring on a complex rebellion. Snow knew this. But as usual, Sherlock was one step ahead of him. He realized that he will indefinitely be reaped tomorrow. Sherlock will be tempted to look in the bowl to see if every slip of paper will have his name on it in that unnerving neat handwriting.