Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: A little later than I was aiming for, I know. These two were a bit of a challenge for me. But a good sort of challenge. And now we're three fourths of the way through the reapings.

Thank you to TheTypeWriter001 and xDisgraceful Avengerx for Husk and Antiquity, respectively.

District Nine Reaping
What is to Come

Belonessa Capricorn
Mentor, District Nine

There was no way anyone could possibly eat that much grain.

Belonessa stared out at the fields, shocked. Wondering how much of that field it would take to make a loaf of bread. Not much, surely; all of the stalks were so tall. Maybe two or three. Four, at most. So much grain. So much bread. How were these people still so thin?

This was Belonessa's first year in District Nine. Her first time outside the Capitol, in fact. District Nine's previous mentor, Nerond Pel, had "retired." Belonessa shook her head. Everyone knew what a failure Nerond had been. Eight years of young boys and girls who were usually strong from working in the fields, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing.

Well, now it was her turn. District Nine had so much potential. They just needed the right guiding hand. Hers.

Belonessa drew her gaze away from the fields and back to the crowd as the mayor finished his speech. Simmity Danterri, District Nine's escort, bounced up to the podium and greeted the crowd. Belonessa smiled. At least Simmity did her job well. Not that it was a hard job – being excited for the crowd and drawing two names out of bowls – but someone had to do it. Someone with a little pep and cheer. And that was Simmity to a t.

Simmity reached into the first bowl and drew a slip of paper. Belonessa was on the edge of her seat with anticipation. Her very first tribute ever was—

"Antiquity Kirsh!"

A noise – an almost animal-like snarling – came from the fourteen-year-old section. Belonessa could see a girl thrashing – against no one in particular at first, but then against the Peacekeepers who came to retrieve her. They dragged her to the stage, where Belonessa was still beaming excitedly. This girl had spunk!

She was thin, but tall for her age – maybe a couple inches shy of six feet, though it was hard to tell with her flailing about. Her hair, dark and wild, ran long down her back, reaching her waist. As the Peacekeepers dragged her onstage, Belonessa could see her eyes – a deep, raging sea-blue. At least, Belonessa thought it was sea-blue. She'd never actually seen the sea. Maybe someday. Was it really that blue?

No, this wasn't the time for daydreaming. She needed to focus. But it was so hard with the girl making all that noise. Finally, the Peacekeepers gave her some sort of sedative, but that calmed her so much that they had to support her, one on either side.

Belonessa clapped her hands as Simmity reached into the second bowl. This was so exciting! It was even better than she'd imagined! Simmity unfolded the second piece of paper. "Husk Fange!"

The sixteen-year-old section quickly parted for a boy in a blue business suit. His expression was furious as he stomped to the stage, but, compared to the girl, he was downright calm. Maybe he didn't want to be sedated, too, Belonessa thought, beaming. He was perfect – tall, strong, dark, with dark blonde hair and dark brown eyes. If only he would stop scowling, he would be quite handsome.

They looked so fantastic, standing there together. Yes, this was their year. She would make sure everyone remembered her first Hunger Games. The only question was, which one of these two would be her first victor?

Husk Fange
District Nine Male

He hadn't expected anyone to come to say goodbye.

Husk watched as the last of his employees bustled out the door, wishing him the best of luck. For a brief second, the man glanced back, and Husk could see the fear in his eyes. Husk scoffed as he realized why he and the dozens before him had really come.

They knew he had a good chance of winning. And, if he came home victorious, maybe he would remember the people who had wished him well. Maybe he would show them favor. Or, perhaps, they were afraid of what he would do to those who hadn't come.

But they were wrong. He wouldn't remember. He didn't even know most of their names. They weren't important. Most of them were incompetent, the rest simply lazy. He got more done in an hour when he took to the fields himself – which was often, even since inheriting the company. It only made sense to send the best person to do a job – and the best person was him.

Which was why he had a good chance in the arena – good enough that they had recognized it, despite their district's victor-less past. He was already the best. The others – even the few who had trained – didn't truly know what they were about to do. The fear of the prey. The incredible rush of a killing blow. The empty feeling that followed.

He could still see the three men – his father's business rivals and the owner's son, his best friend since childhood. They were dead. But even that had left a hollow feeling, because it would never return what he had lost.

Husk gripped his father's locket, opened it one more time to see the picture inside – himself and his parents, smiling, happy. That was his advantage. He knew would never have his father back. The men who had murdered him – their deaths wouldn't bring him back. Neither would the deaths of the children in the arena. His father would never return.

But he would.

Antiquity Kirsh
District Nine Female

The fact that Historia was actually hugging her proved how bad the situation was.

Antiquity's little sister usually had the sense to keep her distance. But not now. Now she sat beside Antiquity with her arms wrapped tightly around her older sister, silently begging for her to come back.

And Antiquity still felt nothing.

A very small part of her felt a twinge of disappointment. A part that had thought that maybe – maybe – the rage she had felt this morning after being reaped would lead to more. Just feeling anything again had been so overwhelming that she had simply lashed out, not caring who she hurt in the process.

But now the rage was gone, and the emptiness had returned to take its place.

Part of her knew she should feel something. If not fear, then maybe anticipation. Excitement. Anger. Anything.

But, instead, the void remained. The hollowness that had come over her nearly two years ago. Two years. The last time she had truly felt anything, and it had been fear. Confusion. Panic. Terror as the man had lunged at her. Desperation as she had struck back with the only weapon she could find: a shard of glass from a broken bottle. And then blood. And then amazement.

And then nothing.

As her mother and sister left, wordless, Antiquity wondered if maybe – just maybe – being in the arena would bring that fear back. Maybe the danger of being killed would be enough. Or maybe actually killing someone would be enough. Enough to feel something – anything – again.

Maybe. And she would find out soon enough.

"What was is less dark than what is to come."