Author's Note: I am beginning Nanowrimo, so please be patient as this story may get less attention for the time being. Alternatively, it might get more attention as a means of procrastination. Thank you to Elim9 and kopycat101 for Candice and Brody respectively.

I still don't own the Hunger Games.

Weak Straws District Nine:

Mentors:

Haspereek Cloven – Victor of the 13th Annual Hunger Games at 18 (current age 24)

Rolath Dornel – Victor of the 15th Annual Hunger Games at age 18 (current age 22)

Rolath stared out far beyond the lines of tributes at the wheat fields, wondering what he could do differently this year, how he could make himself care again. He sincerely had cared about the first tribute he had mentored two years ago. He'd only been a year behind him in school, though Rolath hadn't known him terribly well. Rolath hadn't known many people. He had preferred anonymity in school, to be just one stalk of wheat in an entire field of grain. All of that anonymity was robbed from him as a tribute and even more so now as a Victor. Now, even when he was alone he was accompanied, by cameras, by intrigue, constantly under surveillance. It would never change, he knew. His days of hiding in the fields, working for as long as he could, letting his sandy hair blend into the fields and sway with the stalks of wheat, were long gone.

Haspereek had hoped he would weather it as she had. They'd leaned on each other for support at times, yes, but they'd been very divided when not beside their Tributes in the arena. Perhaps she'd hoped that he would come to her, find solace in her arms, but that had never been where his strength lay. Rolath grew his energy from his garden, from living things, from the sculptures he designed and from the stalks of wheat he buried deep within the earth.

Haspereek stood beside him again, smiling as ever. The was an expert showwoman, putting on the face for the Capitol, for those she cared about. She had learned the hard way that to be anything less than this was accompanied by a penalty.

Rolath grimaced as the escort, he didn't even care what her name was, began her monologue. All he wanted was silence again, to have these weeks done with and come home, with a victor or not. He knew he had no right to be so indifferent, having only mentored two tributes himself, but maybe being a victor gave him a right to anything he wanted. Wasn't that what they were told, the bait that was held out for any fool who was dumb enough to volunteer? Riches, glamor, safety? Their names in lights, bonfires and celebrations lit for them?

"Now, the moment that we've awaited all year has finally come upon us. We will shortly meet our tributes for this, the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games. Who will have the honor of representing District Nine?"

"I'd like to pick the name," Haspereek interrupted the escort and Rolath cringed. What was she doing? How could she want to pick a name? Unless it was because of last year and what had happened with her cousin.

The escort hesitated. "My dear, Haspereek, I appreciate the sentiment, but I fear the rules of the Capitol make it imperative that it be me who picks the name. The process must pure, and fair beyond reproach." The irony of that statement was surely not lost on either Victor standing on the stage.

"Then let me read it," Haspereek said firmly, in the voice that had captivated the Capitol despite her dramatic past, despite her sorted habits. Rolath couldn't help but wonder if she'd had a couple too many this morning, if she'd started a new habit, or what she had done that could possibly have possessed her to make this request.

"Well, I suppose I can do that much, but only for the ladies" the escort conceded. She picked the fateful slip of paper and handed it to Haspereek.

"Candice Graham," Haspereek announced. Rolath had expected to hate hearing her voice utter the name of the condemned, but he actually found it softer. The change hadn't called the girl forward, though, in fact there was no movement in the crowd. He wished there were. This part just evoked emotions that could be avoided if the tribute would accept the inevitable.

Reluctantly, the thirteen year old section began to part. From the look on the short, thin girl's face reality hadn't struck her yet. She looked as though she were still expecting something else, perhaps she hadn't heard, or had thought she heard wrong. She still wasn't moving. Her eyes were looking anywhere but directly at the stage, focusing in the middle distance, perhaps assuring herself that this was all a dream.

Haspereek locked eyes with Rolath as the Peacekeepers began to move in on her. Suddenly the girl sprinted off, running as though her life depended upon it. The Peacekeepers bolted after her. She made it all the way back past the eighteen year old section before they caught her, but catch her they did. One of them picked up her slender body with great ease and tossed her over his shoulder with no more tenderness than he would have tossed a sack of potatoes. She was kicking at him, her brown dress flailing in desperation as the sobs began to come. The Peacekeeper made the tedious return to the stage and placed the girl, trembling like a lonely stalk of wheat in a tempest, directly in front of Rolath. Perhaps they were counting on the fact that he would calm her, or minimally be able to catch her should she run again. For a moment it looked as though she might. Haspereek motioned for him to put his hand on the girl's shoulder to secure her, but he didn't. For these few brief moments until her district partner was decided, the girl would be on her own, as weak and helpless as she appeared.

"Would you care to announce for the gentlemen?" the escort asked Rolath, but he shook his head "no." She smiled, glad that everything was once again as it should be. She seemed to need her moments in the spotlight.

"For the young gentlemen, Brody Punter." There was some murmuring from the crowd as a boy donning a skull cap hat strode forward from the fifteen year old section. As he moved forward, a smirk spread across his face and he began to wave, as though he had pinpointed exactly where the cameras were and was playing to every single one of them. He reached the stage in what seemed to Rolath to be record time, before the Peacekeepers even had a thought of escorting him. The little girl began to tremble even more when she saw her district partner didn't seem to be afraid. In fact, as Rolath looked over at him, Brody was leaning into the mike, taking it from the escort.

"District Nine, I'd like to thank you. I'll be seeing you soon because this bro will definitely be the victor of these Hunger Games, so bring it, Panem!" He shouted so loudly the microphone buzzed with feedback, a problem that the Capitol had fixed years ago. The escort smirked. It had been a while since they had seen such energy from a District Nine tribute. Brody smiled even more broadly as he shook Candice's hand.

"District Nine your two Tributes for the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games," Haspereek announced, the escort giving her a glare that could have curdled milk.

Candice Graham – 13

She still felt weak. She was still trembling as her family game to say goodbye to her. Her mother wrapped a shawl around her, knowing this would comfort her, even if only for a moment. The warmth of the black fabric, familiar against her skin, and her mother's embrace, brought her mind and body to a more still, more focused place.

"You'll need to stay focused in the Games," her mother said, keeping a hand on Ary so she didn't wander off and miss saying goodbye to her sister.

"Where's Nestor?" Candice asked. Her mother forced back an exasperated sigh. Of course Candice wouldn't have heard a word she said. Going to a fight to the death clearly wasn't going to miraculously imbibe Candice with the attention span of anything longer than a squirrel.

"He went to find Tamika so she could say goodbye," her father said. He looked intently at his oldest daughter, measuring his words carefully. "Remember to choose your allies wisely. Do not draw attention to yourself."

"Yes, daddy," Candice said. She was listening, even as she was imagining what lay ahead, days of training with unfamiliar weapons, unfamiliar people, and then the arena, blood, terror. What could she do to escape it all?

"Candice," she heard her brother's voice as Nestor came into the room. "I'm so sorry. Tamika's mother wouldn't let her come. She said it would be too . . . nevermind." He paused, weighing his words wisely. Nestor was used to caring for his sister, not bonding with her and certainly not advising her on what could be her last days. "Is there anything you'd like me to pass on to her."

"Tell her thank you, I guess," Candice ventured.

"Candice, tell me a story," Ary begged, grabbing Candice's hand. She didn't understand. She was only three. How would her family explain it to her when her older sister didn't return from this awful voyage?

"Not this time, Ary. There isn't time," their mother said, saving the day. "Now Candice, remember you'll have to focus."

"I'll start a story for you, Ary. Once upon a time there was an older sister who loved her little sister very much. Then one day she had to go away, but she wanted her to know that she still loved her, no matter what happened, no matter what horrible things she saw on the screen or heard about her." Candice knew it was the worst story she would ever tell, but in that instant she didn't have much of a choice; it was the story that was being written for her. The Peacekeepers opened the door cautiously, certainly convinced that Candice would make a run for it again. Her mother grabbed Ary by the hand and they were gone, disappearing into the words of another story. All they had left behind was one of Ary's ribbons. Candice held it close, as though by clutching onto that she would somehow be able to hold onto them.

Brody Punter – 15

How could this have happened, Brody thought. He'd never taken tesserae, he'd always been secure, rarely wanting for anything. He hadn't realized how lucky he had been until this very moment in this cell of a room.

"Brovick!" He immediately brightened as Jovick Rothers stepped into the room and he was once again his jovial, fearless self. "Did you see that? All of Panem already loves me."

"They sure do, bro," Jovick said, but he was hesitant.

"I'm coming back, bro. I've already got a plan. I'm going to make a Brolliance and bro the bromance out of Panem. All the bros in the Capitol will be lining up to sponsor this Bromaster and before I know it I'll be right back here."

"You're right. You've got nothing to worry about," Jovick asserted. "Just don't do anything stupid, bro. Don't get yourself killed. Remember this isn't a game."

"Bro, you sound like my mother. This is the Hunger Games, of course it's a game. It's in the title." Jovick sighed.

"I'll catch you later, man" he said, slapping Brody on the back and making a quick exit before his patience ran out with his best friend.

His family trailed in after Jovick left, his mom, dad, and little bro.

"Brody, are you really going to win the Hunger Games?" Danny asked. His eyes were wide with excitement and admiration. "Are you really going to come back on a train and live in the victor's village with Rolath and Haspereek?" Being the son of the district gossip had its perks, Brody thought. He'd already be bros with one of his mentors and, well, Haspereek wasn't bad looking, even if she was a bit older.

"You can bet on it, little bro," Brody said, ruffling up Danny's hair. The ten year old smiled broadly. He could only imagine his little brother cheering him on here in the District as he went through the Games, as he climbed his way to victory one tribute at a time. "Cheer loudly okay. I'll take out the weak ones first and then, towards the end, you'll see. My broliance and I will bring down everyone else and I'll come out on top." Danny's joyous giggle was so contagious his parents couldn't help but smile even though they wanted to do anything else.

"I'll see you soon," Brody promised, high fiving all three of his family members as they left the room. He smirked smugly. He would see them all soon, just as soon as he won the Hunger Games.

Haspereek Cloven – Mentor D 9

"They're both weak," Haspereek stated worriedly. "Which one do you want?" That was the point of the matter. She could tell instantly that their tributes probably weren't going to make a good team, just like they hadn't the past couple years. They both had major character flaws, either terror or arrogance, both sides of the same coin of weakness and, after several years of mentoring and watching the games with the keen eye of a Victor pruning her tributes, Haspereek couldn't foresee either of them lasting terribly long.

"I'll take the girl," Rolath said. There was no surprise there. It seemed like the two of them would get along, quiet, recluse, and reserved.

"So be it," Haspereek said. "May the odds be in our favor," she quoted the Hunger Games theme as she took his arm and they left the stage together, as they had for the last couple years. United, but weak.

"Those that with haste will make a mighty fire

Begin it with weak straws."