District 7

Sorrel Newman

It's said there are more trees than people in District 7. Not that I've ever bothered to count, but the district is pretty much one big forest, so there may be some truth to that claim. But it certainly is true that our children start learning about trees and tree husbandry from an early age in preparation for a lifetime working in the lumber industry. Assuming, of course, they don't get reaped - and getting reaped is precisely what has happened to me.

Right now, my district partner, Timothy, and I are waiting for the start of the tribute parade; we are standing in our chariot, dressed in the costumes our stylists designed for us. I'm wearing an ankle-length dress and matching slippers, both of which look as though they have been made out of bark. Ivy leaves made from green silk have been sewn to my dress, trailing up the skirt and onto the bodice. On my head, I wear a large wreath of leaves and there are more leaves around my wrists. Like nearly every District 7 tribute since our current stylists took over somewhere around the Thirty-fifth Games, I'm dressed as a tree.

Still, it isn't bad as tribute costumes go. Though I doubt my mentor would say the same; she says the tree theme is getting rather stale, though she didn't phrase it quite so politely. My mentor is Johanna Mason, the girl who won a couple of years back by pretending she was a weakling, then, when there were only a few tributes left, revealing herself to be a vicious killer. Many of us in District 7 knew how tough she was in reality - still is, of course - but it must have come as a shock to the other districts when she finally revealed her true colours.

My strategy for the Games is not going to be quite so devious. Equip myself with weapons and supplies at the Cornucopia, then, assuming I manage to get clear, find some trees to use as my base camp. I'll kill anyone who threatens my life, but I won't initiate attacks on anyone. That's what Career tributes do and, while I'll have no choice but to kill if I'm going to win these Games, I have no wish to kill wantonly the way many Careers do. Of course, there's no telling what will happen once I'm in the arena. I could easily end up panicking and killing someone without meaning to, which has happened in the Games before.

But I dismiss even the thought of it and turn my attention to deciding what type of weapon I should use. Like most District 7 citizens, I'm skilled with axes, so I should probably focus on learning to use other weapons while I'm at the Training Centre. Swords, maces, spears . . . and many other weapons have featured in the Games over the years and it's useful to know how to use them. I won't have time to get as proficient as the Careers, but I should at least learn enough to enable me to defend myself. An axe would be my preferred weapon of choice, but, just in case there aren't any in the Cornucopia, I'll spend some time working with other weapons as well.

And then there's the question of allies. Should I team up with any of my fellow tributes? If so, who? Alliances can be useful in the early stages of the Games, but the benefits need to be weighed against the possibility that you and your allies may end up having to kill each other. I decide to leave the decision until after I've had time to observe the other tributes and see if they have any useful skills.

I think of my family in District 7, my parents and two brothers. Thorn is one year away from his first reaping, but Douglas is only three years old. This is the first year he's really been aware of the Hunger Games and he knew that was why I was going away, but he's too young to grasp exactly what that means. When my parents brought him and Thorn to say goodbye, he actually asked me if he could "play too". I just told him he'd have to wait until he was older.

As the chariots start to roll out of the Remake Centre, I get ready to wave to the crowds.

Timothy Banks

I am the youngest tribute in this year's Games; I turned twelve just two days before the reaping. Not many babies are born in the districts at this time of year because the parents don't want to risk having their child's birthday fall on reaping day. But I was one of the exceptions. I'm not the smallest tribute here, though; the girl from District 5 (I don't know her name) is a little smaller than me. But, at 4'11", I am the smallest male tribute.

My district partner is a girl named Sorrel. Our fathers both work at the same sawmill, but we aren't friends. Which is just as well because one or both of us will soon be dead. And the chances are that I will be killed first; most very young tributes get knocked out early. But I'm not going down without a fight, even if the odds are against me. That's what I promised Rebecca (my ten-year-old sister) when she and our parents came to say goodbye.

I'll almost certainly never see them again. But they will soon see me when the tributes are paraded through the streets of the Capitol; everyone has to watch the tribute parade on television. Being from District 7, Sorrel and I are dressed as trees. My costume consists of a shirt and trousers, with slippers on my feet, all of which look like bark. Like Sorrel's, my costume is decorated with silk ivy leaves which have been sewn to my shirt and trousers. Finally, my head is wreathed with leaves.

I think back to the reaping. I hoped I would be safe in my first year; even though I'd signed up for tesserae on my birthday two days earlier, this only gave me five entries. One because it was my first year, plus another four because of the tesserae I'd claimed for my parents, Rebecca and myself. But one of those five entries was drawn from the boys' reaping ball and I had to come to the stage. Our district escort (a purple-haired woman named Virginia) asked for volunteers, but no-one responded. Which wasn't unusual since District 7 is not a Career district and it's usually the Career districts that have kids coming forward to volunteer.

When I was younger (about six or seven) I asked my father why the kids in Districts 1, 2 and 4 were so keen to volunteer. Even that young, I knew they must be aware of what they were letting themselves in for, that they must know they couldn't be sure they would win. He just told me about how they view the Hunger Games differently in the Career districts, about how they see being a tribute as an honour. Then, doubtless fearing I would start asking awkward questions, he sent me outside to play.

Anyway, no-one volunteered for me, so I became District 7's boy tribute in the Seventy-third Hunger Games. As I said before, I know the odds are against me, but I'm not just going to let myself get killed. I'm going to at least try to fight back. And my best hope is probably to focus on projectile weapons, which will allow me to take out my opponents from a distance. I'm already pretty good with a throwing axe.

At school, we have axe-throwing competitions. It's good practice for the Games in case we ever get reaped, but we don't talk about that. Last year, I came second in the boys' competition and I hope I will be able to make use of the hours I spent practising once I get to the arena. I don't let myself think about the fact that there's a difference between throwing an axe at a wooden target and throwing an axe at a human being.

Of course, this strategy could backfire. There might be no axes in the Cornucopia, or I might get jumped by one of the other tributes - and I wouldn't stand a chance against most of them. But I figure it's about the best chance I've got of winning the Games.

While I'm thinking about my chances in the Games, the chariots start to roll out.