Woof -District Eight, age fourteen
Some Tributes are too shocked to do anything but step onstage and stand there when they get Reaped. Not me. I screamed like a baby and begged the Peacekeepers for mercy as they held me in place. They ripped me away from my parents when my time was up and my escort watched me constantly after I tried to jump off the train. By the time I was in the Capitol, I wasn't any braver, but I'd given up hope of getting away.
Training was an exercise in futility for me. I didn't have any skills and I knew if I picked up a weapon I'd only hurt myself. I fiddled with knots and studied the other Tributes. Any one of them could be my killer. There was Ritz, the boy from One with the gold hair and the gray mace. There was his partner Splendor, shooting the eyes of mannequins with a curved bow. Other children enhanced their District advantages or raced to learn new ones. Then there were the Tributes like me- the young ones huddled together in corners or struggling to pick up weapons heavier than they were. They didn't even look at us. We weren't worth their time.
I got a four for my private session. I moved some rope around and showed the Gamemakers a knot. I saw in their eyes that they knew as well as I did I didn't have a chance. I didn't bother trying anything else. I'd embarrass myself further. Page tried to encourage me, but her best hope was with my partner Bobbie. At least she could run.
The night before the Games, the younger Tributes gathered together and huddled in the common room, taking comfort in each others' presence. We nestled next to each other in piles of blankets and whispered messages for our families and friends. The boy I was next to, Roberto, asked me to tell his mother he loved her. Most of the messages were similar, and we all swore to tell if by some miracle we lived. None of us got much sleep.
The Arena was hilly in one direction and grassy in the other. When the gong sounded, I ran for the knee-high grass without a step toward the Arena. Roberto died in the Bloodbath, but I didn't see it. I did see Wade, the boy from Four, impale a girl my age on his trident. I also saw a boy from last night's haven run nearby me until Splendor's arrow sprouted from his forehead.
Nine Tributes died that first night. I lay flat under the curly grass and squished as far into the gopher-ridden ground as I could. For the next week, I ate nothing but grass and drank nothing but rain. I was probably a day from starving when they called the feast.
I emerged from my hole and crept to the Cornucopia. A table was spread with all sorts of food on silver plates. Two male Tributes were already there, eating warily at opposite ends of the table. We were all that was left of the outlying Districts. They paid no attention when I snatched a handful of rolls and started devouring them. None of us heard the Careers coming.
Wade's trident caught one of the boys mid-mouthful. The boy from Two ran after the other boy at the table. As I ran for the grass, Splendor's arrow caught me below the left shoulder. I collapsed into the cover of the grass and crawled away as the others fought. I looked behind me at the trail of blood I left. I was wounded, starved, exhausted, and helpless. Whoever won this thing, it wasn't going to be me.
I changed my mind again. Woof is here, Seeder won the 31st Games. Not everything's exactly right but I'll try to stay reasonably close. Sadly, there's no room for Soho. I'm sure we'll all miss him.
In keeping with canon, Woof was two months older than Finnick when he won. There wasn't much to go on from the books when I wrote about Woof, and I tried not to add anything, like a last name. All I got was that fans presume he outlasted everyone and mostly hid. In this story, the feast was followed by the final Career battle, since they assumed Woof's wound would kill him. All the Careers died in the battle and Woof was left as Victor.