Seeder's year doesn't match with Canon just because I didn't get everything right. I gave her a last name just for looks.
Also, I noticed a few questions in the reviews, so I can answer them! Rudolph is listed as "unknown District" because he was submitted by a reader who did not specify his District and I didn't want to assume. Based on his personality and technique, he's likely from a Career District or one of the wealthier ones. Nine and Twelve don't have any Victors yet because I left them empty for the 23rd Games because I thought it was likely some Districts might still be victorless. After that my Victors were from SYOTs and Nine and Twelve didn't happen to win. Twelve does have a Victor now. I just haven't reached him yet.
Seeder Graze- District Eleven (17)
The Hunger Games isn't about killing. It's about surviving. After the first few days, most of us had no energy to kill. A lot of us didn't have the energy to live. The Arena was temperate, but its rolling, grassy hills gave little cover and little sustenance. Some of us must have tried to kill the towering, shaggy mutts that stampeded across the Arena one day, but the cannons showed what happened to them.
All my time was taken up just by living. I didn't even have time to be afraid. Every morning when I woke up, I gathered my scattered clothes from where I'd lain them across the grass and sucked the dew from them, barely taking the edge off my thirst. I crawled around in circles swiping them across the wet grass to get more water, until I was strong enough to get up. I put my clothes back on, grateful there wasn't anyone around to see me in my underwear and painfully aware that everyone back home is watching.
The next thing I needed was food. To most people, the grass beneath our feet seemed like just that, but I knew to look closer. I could pick the grass blades apart from the yucca and alfalfa that would provide me just enough nutrition to survive. I felt like the bison mutts that roamed the Arena as I tore clumps of grass from the ground and ate them as bits of dirt stuck in my teeth.
The Gamemakers must have been disappointed this year. They must have thought the Games would be over quickly in such an open, exposed Arena. What really happened is that after the first day, when half of us died, the rest of us ran so far that the Careers couldn't find us scattered across the Arena. Two of the Careers died the first day the mutts stampeded, and I'd been hidden between two hills ever since. I could tell the Gamemakers were getting impatient, since the mutts were stampeding more and more often. If they came for me, there was nothing I could do.
Nothing was what I was doing most of the time. If I wasn't gathering water or eating grass, I was lying still on the ground to conserve energy. I could see myself wasting awayon a starvation diet of unrefined grass. My veins stuck out harsh against my skin and my knees clacked together when I slept.
It was almost comforting in its routine. Get up, drink, eat, sleep, wait for rain, eat, sleep. Listen for Careers or Mutts. Hear them in the distance and hope for cannons. Every second was taken up by the everyday business of keeping my body running.
Another Career was in the sky that night, the latest victim of the mutts. I fantasized about the meat on their massive bodies. I wanted to tear into it without even cooking it, without even taking the fur off. I imagined it filling my stomach like it hadn't been full in two weeks. I could hardly imagine winning. I'd forgotten what it was like outside the Arena. If I ever got there again, I knew what I'd do. I'd drink, I'd eat, and I'd sleep.