Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

Note: I made it through the reapings! Pretty proud of that. Just a couple of things to mention.

1. After you're done with this chapter, there is a poll on my profile page where you can vote for up to five of your favorite tributes. These are not necessarily the tributes you think are most likely to win. (I'll have a separate poll for that later.) Use whatever criteria you like to determine your favorites.

Feel free to vote for your own tribute(s). That's part of the reason I decided on a maximum of five; just tell me who else you like, too.

My apologies for the fact that the poll is not arranged in any logical order; the site automatically shuffles the choices. If there's a way to stop it from doing that, please let me know.

2. Now that you've met everyone, if there's an alliance you'd like to see or think would work well – even if it doesn't involve your own tribute(s) – please PM me and let me know.

3. Thank you to BananasInLoungewear and torystory93 for Aldo and Heloise, respectively.

District Twelve Reaping
Do Not Trust to Hope

Pardeck Krell
Mentor, District Twelve

He was the only one smiling. But that had never bothered Pardeck. They didn't understand. The people in the District – and most people in the Capitol – would expect him to be frustrated after eight years of tributes dying under his care. Eight years of watching District Twelve's children bleed and starve to death. Eight years of watching them lose.

But every year they lost was really another victory for Pardeck.

He had been a Peacekeeper here, in District Twelve, before the rebellion. His brother, one of the Capitol's finest generals, had died here. So, naturally, everyone had been shocked when the brother of General Barone Krell had volunteered to mentor District Twelve. And, as loss after loss came to the district, most in the Capitol greeted him with sympathy. Understanding.

But they didn't truly understand. This was his revenge. These people had taken his brother. So now he took theirs – their brothers, sisters, daughters, sons – and guided them to their deaths. That was his victory.

And if, someday, the district managed to produce its own victor, then that was still half a victory. Still one tribute dead. And the unhappy child would be left to mentor in his place, doomed to watch helplessly as his or her charges faced brutal deaths. And that was almost as satisfying a thought.

There was no way for him to lose.

Helenor Matim, District Twelve's escort, smiled warmly as the mayor finished his speech. Since there was no list of victors to read – and, if Pardeck had his way, it would stay that way for a long time – Helenor moved to the first bowl and drew a name. She unfolded it slowly, dramatically, while Pardeck waited to meet his next victim.

"Heloise Cache!"

As the crowd began to murmur, the twelve-year-old section parted to reveal a girl in a white blouse and blue skirt. She was rather tall and muscular for her age, and she walked to the stage with what was probably trying to be confidence, her brown eyes wide, her chin-length brown hair blowing a little in the chilly wind. She was trying to be brave, hoping that would save her. But Pardeck knew better. He was already planning her death.

Not that he needed to. The stronger tributes watching the replay of this reaping were probably doing that for him. The girl was larger and healthier than her fellow twelve-year-olds, but still no physical threat. No, they could take care of her without his help.

Helenor grinned at the young tribute, then reached into the next bowl and drew a name. "Aldo Retchwood!"

The sixteen-year-old section parted around a skinny boy in dark pants and a light button-up shirt. For a moment, he was still. Almost a statue. His dark blonde hair was the only thing that moved, waving messily around his face.

Two Peacekeepers moved towards the boy. One grabbed him by the arm. Instantly, the boy came to life, breaking free from the Peacekeeper's grasp. For a moment, Partreck thought he might make a run for it. He'd watched the other reapings; the District Two girl had tried to run, and the District Nine girl had even attacked the Peacekeepers.

But the boy made no attempt to run or to fight. After breaking free, he simply walked slowly to the stage on his own, fists clenched, breaking away whenever one of the Peacekeepers gave him a little shove, glaring at them with cold, blue eyes, barely containing his rage.

Then the boy's glare turned to Pardeck, and, in that split second, Pardeck thought he saw something familiar. Something he couldn't place. Something old.

Then it was gone, and the boy was shaking the girl's hand, his eyes now holding nothing but sympathy for his fellow tribute. Pardeck smiled. Sympathy didn't get anybody very far in the arena. It got tributes killed.

This was going to be another easy year.

Aldo Retchwood
District Twelve Male

He still felt like he was going to be sick.

Aldo wasn't sure which was worse: The thought that he would be killed, the thought that he would have to kill, or the way the Peacekeepers had grabbed him. As if they got some sort of pleasure out of leading him to his death. The same sort of perverse "pleasure" that a group of Peacekeepers had gotten from his mother seventeen years ago.

That technically meant the people around him were his half-siblings and step-father, but he didn't care. They were his. He was theirs. That was what mattered, not the fact that his older sister and little brother had their father's dark hair and brown eyes, while he had his mother's ice blue eyes and some Peacekeeper's lighter hair.

His grandmother handed him something – a small, origami bird. "It's a crane," she smiled. "Do you know why cranes fly in a v-shape, Aldo?"

He'd heard the story before, of course, and he was pretty sure that it was supposed to be about geese, not cranes, but he didn't have the heart to correct her. "Why, Nana?"

"It's the bird in front that fights the hardest against the wind. The ones behind him – he cuts a pathway for them. But no one can be strong all the time. So the birds will shift places mid-flight. The ones at the back will come forward, and the ones in the front will go to the back to rest. Do you understand?" She smiled her toothless grin.

Aldo nodded. He understood what she was trying to say. She always told him he worked too hard. Dropping out of school to take a job with his parents in the mines, taking extra tesserae secretly once his little brother was born. He was tired of being strong, but there was no one to come take his place at the front; they were already there with him.

Unless he won. Then he could take care of them. Then they would never have to scrape by again. Then they would have everything they needed.

They needed him. They needed him to come back. They needed him to be strong.

Just a little longer.

Heloise Cache
District Twelve Female

Her parents hadn't come.

It wasn't their fault, of course; Heloise knew that. If they had come, they would have been caught. And then they would have been killed. They hated hiding, but it was the only way for them to stay alive.

It was the Capitol's fault. Their fault she only got to see her parents once a week, when her aunt and uncle smuggled her into their hiding place. Part of her knew she should be grateful she still had parents at all, and an aunt an uncle to care for her. But she wasn't grateful. She was angry. Always angry.

It would have been different if her parents were dead. But they were alive. She could have them, if only the Capitol were gone. Someday…

Someday soon, if her parents had their way. They were planning another rebellion. Teaching her everything they could. Soon, they would be ready. Soon.

"I'll be fine," Heloise insisted, though she wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure her aunt and uncle or herself. "I'm good with a sword, so I've got a chance, right?"

Aunt Rosaline and Uncle Jemel shared a look. At last, Aunt Rosaline smiled encouragingly. "You're the best little swordsman I know." She threw her arms around her niece.

Uncle Jemel nodded. "Stay safe. Come home. We'll be waiting."

They would be waiting. And so would her parents. And her baby sister, waiting to be born.

They would all be waiting for her.

A few moments later, outside the door, Rosaline and Jemel held each other close. "We should have told her," Rosaline said quietly. "She's not a child anymore. Her dreams won't help her in the arena."

Jemel shook his head. "No. But hope will.

"Do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands."