75 Victors

by LadyCordeliaStuart

I wrote a fic about the 23rd Games, and that spiraled into a little universe with 22 Victors I had to make up. This will give them backstories I can draw on for future appearances. I'll be adding more Victors as more come from my SYOTs. Canon Victors will get a little something, but I don't want to mess with them, since neither I nor my readers made them up, so they'll be shorter.

2. Paul Olson

Most of these won't be as long as Orchard's. Hers was the first Games, so I added some more story.

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Paul Olson, District Seven

The Arena was different this time. They told us to expect that, but I was still surprised to see all the peaceful trees. It looked just like home. I wavered on the edge of the platform as the countdown reached its end. The gong sounded, and I ran toward the Cornucopia with half of the other Tributes. The smaller ones ran for the trees. Three of the older children chased after them.

They're actually going to kill them. They're just kids, I thought. I picked up a plastic bag and ran into the woods. The first scream came while I was still looking for a good tree. The first cannon came when I was climbing it.

I picked a tall, solid pine tree for my perch. I felt for handholds in its rough, sticky bark as I climbed. The branches grew thinner as I climbed higher and higher. I hugged close to the trunk and wedged myself into a split. I could see an ocean of trees in one direction, and a grassy meadow lead to a river in the other. The clear forest air also carried sound excellently, and I heard the next two cannons clear as day. I pressed my cheek onto the flaky bark and closed my eyes.

The cannons quieted, and I looked into my bag. It had a pocketknife and a package of matches. I tucked the contents into my pocket and focused on what I really wanted in the first place: the bag. I opened it and slipped it over a leafy branch near my head. Then I broke off another branch and started stripping the bark with the knife. Lots of the trees back home were burned in the war, but the leftovers were what kept us from starving. Every part of a pine tree is edible, and even though the inner bark tastes like the raw wood it is, it kept my stomach from growling that first night. The next morning I took the bag off and drank the cupful of water in the bottom. It had something to do with the sun and the plant making its food. I felt sick to my stomach as I waited for the next cannon.

There are murderers out there. They're stalking the woods and they're barely older than the children they kill, I thought. I scrunched tighter against my tree. It wasn't safe down there. Up here, I had food, water and shelter. I could stay here a long time.