A/N: Alright, so I've decided that due to poor reviews and lack of support, I'm going to keep these reapings short. I'm just a bit down with this story lately.. I really wanted this thing to take off and after the success of my first story and the initial success of this one; things appeared like they would be a lot easier. If you are enjoying this story, please let me know, and if I've done anything wrong as of late, please identify that as well. So, here it is, District Nine.

Omri Grain

District Nine- Male

Courtesy of Saltey

Filing into line, I brush my musty black hair out of my eyes. I haven't had a shower today, and the stench of sweat rises off my body and up to my nose. I had meant to shower, but Barric had wanted to practice slinging, so I decided against my personal hygiene. Behind me, Zea squeezes my fingers in an act of anxiety, nervous for her first year. I've only been eligible once before and today I fear I might not be as lucky as last year.

Mazie and Aluma are at the front of the line, and although I can't see them I know the twins are nervous. I whisper a prayer under my breath as we leave the house, hoping fortune will shine through for me. Miss Katz clucks her tongue like the head house hen, waving her arms by her side in some swanky parade manner. Always trying to be stylish, poor Miss Katz doesn't realize you can't be classy and run an orphanage.

Yep, I live in an orphanage.

So do all my friends, although they are more like my brothers and sisters. I don't know where my original family is, nor have I ever met them. I was left on the steps of the Katz House as a baby, with only a first name. Taking me in as another one of her orphans, Katarina Katz oversaw my transformation from babe to child to teenager. I'm thirteen years old now, but I still live under the aegis of Miss Katz and her dank orphanage. I've managed to make some friends though, and most of us have the same surname, Grain. It's given to any child who shows up at this house without a last name, and with grain as the staple of our poor district economy, it only seems fitting.

So as we depart for the reaping, only those of us who are old enough to be reaped in tow, Miss Katz counts our heads as we file out the door. Swooping in behind us, the hanging ends of her drooping sweater like musty wings, Miss Katz closes the door of the orphanage and herds us out into the burning sunlight. Leaving one of her maids, who don't do much cleaning, to govern the place, Miss Katz locks the door and leads on us.

Reaching the square, my brown eyes burn as the sun bears down on them. I've always found the horrors of the game a bit fascinating, what with the luxurious displays by the capitol and flamboyant garb of its citizens. I don't tell the other children, but I secretly wish I could live there, and be free from the squalor that dominates District Nine. We are here a bit early, and the peacekeepers and capitol attendants are still raising the banners and making sure all the lights and cameras are positioned perfectly. Raising a large sheet of projection screen to the top of a metal rise, two peacekeepers clamber down the rungs as they finish their job. On stage, our only victor takes his place and the mayor is conversing with a flustered capitol attendant.

"Now dearies, come right here to me when the reaping is done, and if any of you get picked, remember to say my name loud and clear when you reach the capitol. We want those people up top to know what a wonderful job I'm doing with all of you," Miss Katz winks at us as she talks.

"Miss Katz, why did we have to take so much tesserae this year?" Mazie asks quietly, clutching her sister's hand tightly. "Doesn't that make it easier for you to get picked?"

"Now dearie," Miss Katz begins, "Just because taking tesserae puts you in a bad spot, it does nice things for the younger children," she says in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"But…" Aluma begins but Miss Katz shoos her away to the awaiting peacekeeper, sashaying off to some unknown realm of District Nine. We don't much of the layout of District Nine because we aren't really allowed to leave the orphanage. Following Barric into the thirteen year-old boys section, we smile and wave at Mazie, Aluma, and Zea as they break off into their respective sections.

"I'm scared," Barric whimpers.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I reply.

"We've just taken so much tesserae," he says back.

I give up, and instead focus on the mayor as he reaches the microphone. An emaciated man, the mayor always looks like a ghost and hardly ever makes public opinions. Reaching a bony hand up to the microphone, the mayor speaks with a raspy voice, "Now, we've got a special video all the way from the capitol for you, so pay close attention."

As the projection rolls, the images of happy families and smiling babies permeate my vision. However, the President's voice laments throughout the slideshow and soon the images of war, desperation, and hunger are thrown up on the screen. Describing the rebellion as a catastrophe and explaining how the capitol shows mercy by conducting the Hunger Games, my desire to see the capitol leaves me for a moment. As the cameras quit rolling, I look up at the mayor with a new sense of anger in my eyes. As the skeletal man fades into the background our district escort comes forth.

"Welcome, welcome," Celebus Krex, our flashy escort croons. "I think you all know what time it is, it's time to pick one very lucky boy and girl to participate in this year's Hunger Games!" His voice is grand in tone and his arms spread wide, as if welcoming an old friend. Strutting over to the boy's bowl, Celebus sticks a genetically mutated hand, the color green, into the glass. Pulling out a single slip, Celebus shouts,

"Omri Grain!"

Frozen, I can't force any muscle in my body to move. I don't want to get up there, I want to turn and run back to Miss Katz's house and hide in the corner of the basement. I've never wanted to go to capitol so badly, yet stay so far away from it now. Someone grabs me; I guess it's a peacekeeper. On stage, the tears stream down my face, hot at first but then they pick up a strange coldness. Celebus pats my shoulder and smiles brightly, his multi-colored flesh frightening me a great deal.

"Well, why don't we pick the girl now," he says in the same dazzling tone.

"Cynthia Pratt!" Celebus cries.

I don't bother to look at Cynthia, I don't want to. All I know is that she is now my enemy, and the last thing I want to do is get to know her. The people in the square look up at us, and I catch the eyes of Aluma, Barric, Mazie, and Zea. They all are crying, each one of my friends shedding silent tears. I can't help but mirror them, and as Cynthia and I are herded into the Justice Building by Celebus, the mayor, and our single victor, I cry out for my family, my real one. I just want to know home.

We can't speak to one another, the five of us. We just sit in a tight circle and hold each other and weep. It is Barric who speaks first.

"You're really good with a slingshot," he mumbles.

"Yeah," Mazie says, "You always knock down every bottle."

"You're fast," Zea compliments, "Real fast."

"They can't catch you if I can't," Aluma tries her best to sound reassuring.

"What if they don't have a slingshot?" I wail, "And I can't kill anyone."

"Hope," Barric says, "Hope is your weapon. Hope for a future and hope to return, it's all you've got."

Those words, coming from such a young boy, root themselves in my brain. Hope can be strong, and with it I can carry myself throughout these games. Miss Katz doesn't come to see me, she doesn't care about us, we're marketable, and we're a salary. The emolument she fetches off of us is little, but for each new orphan that enters the Katz House, the government boosts her pay check for living costs. As the peacekeepers cart my friends out the door and lead me to the train, I wish I was walking with them. I'm not though, and instead I am walking towards what is most probably my doom.

Cynthia Pratt

District Nine- Female

Courtesy of The Phantom of the Labyrinth

First of all, I hate my name. My mother thought it would be nice, to give her daughter a pretty little name to go with her pretty little face. I don't go by Cynthia, and because my middle name is shiny sparkly Emerald, I don't go by that either. I go by a name I chose for myself, one that I discovered suited me much better than any name my mother could stamp on me. Ember.

As I pull myself out of the washtub, my dyed hair spilling behind my back in a soaking curtain, my mind is boggled with the thoughts of another reaping day. I've taken a lot of tesserae this year, and I think the odds aren't really in my favor. Brushing my long black hair down to the middle of my back, I calculate how much time there is before now and the reaping. Slipping into my silky black pants and fleece jacket, I quietly sneak out the back door and onto the back roads of District Nine.

Keeping low and to the left, I duck into an enclave shrouded by overgrown brambles. The district is quiet today, so I presume that a lot of game will be enjoying the warmth of the morning. Removing the bow off my back and loading it with a carefully strung arrow, I start to look for signs of any life. Coming across some freshly laid scat; I identify the feces as squirrel and keep a look out for the owner. Suddenly, I hear a the sprightly chuckle of a squirrel to my left, and turning quickly but silently I see the critter bouncing up the bark of a not too far away sycamore tree. Drawing back my arrow, aiming for the creature's eye, I do my best to keep silent. Then, when I'm sure my arrow will meet its target, I let the projectile loose. Sailing through the forest, cutting the air like a warm knife would butter, the arrow doesn't make a sound as it penetrates the iris of the squirrel. Crashing to the ground, landing with a tiny thud on some dead leaves, the squirrel twitches once and then stills. Not bothering to go to my prize yet, I scan the area for any more squirrels, and find two more in some hollowed out oak. Adding the two to my bounty, I claim the spoils and trudge home. It seemed like it took only moments but I had obviously been gone for over thirty minutes, because when I get back, Susan is waiting impatiently for her hair to be braided.

Susan is my twin sister, Susan Sapphire Pratt, and although she is extremely annoying at best, I love her to death. I'm older by a minute, and Susan doesn't let me forget it. She acts like I'm the older sister every girl has dreamed of having, but we are the same exact age.

"Cynthia! I told you I wanted you to braid my hair this morning!" Susan tries her best to emulate our mother's anger. Not like my mom is angry a lot, but she just gets hot-tempered when something she envisions goes awry. Susan also uses my first name, which I hate.

"Well, would you like your belly full or your hair braided?" I ask as I lay the squirrels on the cleaning rack.

"Oh God, don't touch those things before you do my hair," Susan pinches her nose in disgust.

"If I don't clean them now, they might spoil," I say in defense of my hunting.

"I'll just get mom to do it," Susan doesn't think twice as she leaves the kitchen and heads to our mother's bedroom.

"Susan!" I call after her, but I already can hear her and mother talking.

Angrily, I strip the skin clean off of the first squirrel, revealing the veiny pink mass of guts and blood. Taking out the good portions of the meat and depositing the waste into a double-sealed bag, I skin all three squirrels and toss the remnants in the garbage outside. Making sure the bags are tied tight so the smell doesn't escape, I'm more worried about scavengers over cleanliness. Washing my hands in the kitchen sink as I return, I turn to see Susan twirling for me with her hair in a fishtail.

"Doesn't it look nice," she coos as she spins for me.

"Better than I could've done," I say begrudgingly.

"Cynthia," she pleads, "Don't say that."

"It's true," I state as I take off my gloves and toss them in the wash bin.

"Cynth…" she begins but I cut her off.

"I'm going to go put on my dress, and then we'll go," I don't listen to her concern as I make my way to my room, and strip off the morning's hunting clothes. My emerald green eyes contrast the simple black skirt, but I still manage to find some scrap of my beauty in my presentation. Coming back out, Susan pretends to be blown away by my looks while I can hear mother rummaging in her room.

"Is she coming?" I ask in a flat tone.

"Cynthia…don't ask too much," Susan begins.

"I'm only asking for my mother to be there if I'm whisked away to the capitol without a drop of warning to die amongst twenty-three other children," I say with a snarky voice.

"That wasn't nice…" I cut off Susan once more as she speaks.

"I don't give a damn what's nice Susan, I'll tell you what's nice. Having a mother that isn't shooting morphling!" With my stern answer, I stride out the door.

"Cynthia!" Susan calls out.

"My name is Ember!" Is all I can say in reply.

At the square, Susan joins me in the sixteen-year old girl section. "Mother is here," she says with hurt in her voice. I could care less at this point, if it took six years and a personal meltdown to draw my mother from her cave of anxiety, then I don't have to care. Just because my father died doesn't give her an excuse to turn to morphling and ruin our family. The only reason we live is because I hunt every morning. Without me…without what I can do…they'd be dead.

My thoughts cloud the initial processes of the reaping, but I am sharply awoken by something unexpected.

"Cynthia Pratt!" Celebus Krex shouts to the district.

"No…" Susan says quietly, and then the tears start to stream down her face. "No!"

As I reach the stage, I begin to break down again. Tears flow down my face, and it's not because I am going to capitol, or that I have been reaped for the Hunger Games. It's because without me, my mother and Susan will die. I care for my mother, inside me deep somewhere, and knowing that all three of us are doomed to die within a short amount of time kills me in a way unimaginable. My heart begins to tear at the seams of sinew as Celebus leads me and the boy I missed into the Justice Building. District Nine only has one victor, but I don't even know their name.

Inside, Susan comes to see me, and so does my mother.

"Oh Cynthia, what will we do without you," Susan wails as the tears continue to fall. Something within me screams to be horrifically blunt about the predestined affair, and the words that come off my tongue are rooted deep in my brain.

"You'll die," I say objectively.

"W-what?" Susan gasps for air.

"You can't hunt, mother can't work, you'll die," I say simply.

"She's right," my mother says the first words she's said around me in a while.

"We have to work together Susan, our lives depend on it. You and I, we'll find something, we'll make it work," my mother's eyes seem to glaze over and then I can almost see a small veil of despair shatter in her retinas. The look of misery and moping fades into the strong fire of hope. My mother hasn't quit on our family now, she's started believing.

"You hunt, get a bow," my mother instructs to me, regarding my plan for the games.

"I was counting on that," I smile weakly.

Reaching her fingers to her neck, my mother removes a necklace with a small crystal heart from herself. Clasping the jewelry around my neck she whispers, "Be strong."

I will, for my sister, and for my mother. Until today, I didn't have a single drop of hope in me for myself or my family. I guess that's what made me into the bitter Cynthia that I am. I've been calling myself Ember, but I haven't truly been the small fire that I sparked by individuality and ability. I'm that small fire now, and oh how the capitol will watch me grow into the most dazzling inferno this nation has ever seen.

There it is. District Nine. Please leave a review, it would be the world to me! Although the reapings are shorter now, I still believe the characters are full of inspiration and virtue. Let me know what you think, if I should keep going, what I should change if anything, it's good to receive feedback. Check out my other stories as well and keep up the support that you're giving!

Thanks All

-AdmiralBobbery