Chapter Three: Don't Ask Me/ To Follow Where You Lead

The humid air clung to the light cotton material of Maize's plain grey work shirt, her shorts were made of this spandex material that gripped onto her sweaty skin and didn't allow for the light breeze circulating through the orchard to grace its presence.

"A young man walked through the forest/ With his quiver and hunting bow../ He heard a young girl singing/ And followed the sound below." Maize sang softly under her breath as she nimbly climbed the tree in front of her. She had long grown used to the weight of the peck basket on her back and it made no difference to her as she made it to her destination and began to pick the ripe apples hidden in the upper branches before depositing in the basket behind her.

"There he found the maiden/ Who lives in the willow../ He called to her as she listened/ From a ring of toadstools red.." Edelwyse, a girl who had been her friend since they were in diapers, sung along from where she was picking on the tree next to her.

It was a long-standing tradition for the fruit picking children to sing folksongs as they worked. Each song was unique to their district and held hidden lessons for them to learn. Soon a symphony of children began to sing together the tragic tale of 'The Willow Maid' and the greedy man who coveted her for himself. Mockingjays, a hybrid bird of a mockingbird and the genetically modified jabber jay created by the Capitol, flying above them began to whistle the tune alongside them.

As soon as her peck basket was full she scampered back down and handed the full one to Amla, her cousin would inspect each fruit by hand before separating them into groups (the most beautiful ones were bound to go to the Capitol while the others would be distributed to the Districts), who would then hand her an empty peck and Maize would climb up the tree once more. Their work song continued to fill the air. The Willow Maid's home had been desecrated by the man and was being forced to leave.

"She followed him out the forest/ And collapsed upon the earth.../ Her feet had walked but a distance/ From the green land of her birth..." she sang morosely along with the voices of her fellow workmates, the images of children- tributes- human sacrifices being forced to leave their homes and compete in the Hunger Games. "She faded into a flower/ That would bloom for one bright eve.../ He could not take from the forest/ What was never meant to... leave..."

The mockingjays continued to whistle the haunting melody above them as they finished singing their tale. It had been a little over five years since Aloe had passed in the 57th Hunger Games. Maize herself had turned ten years old last month and was already silently dreading the next two years before she would be forced into the reaping.

Her mother had given birth to three more children since then and was even expecting once more. Though Maize's new sibling would not be born for another eight months. Her brother Birch had been born three months after the Victor's Tour. And the twins had been born two years ago. Brier and Piper were absolutely adorable, even if her brother had been initially disappointed that they were girls. Maize absolutely loved having siblings. It was something she never got to experience the first time around, and she found herself growing extremely overprotective of them.

Even then she couldn't believe that her parents would bring more children into this cruel world. It didn't really make sense to the logical part of Maize's mind. How could her parents have children if they knew that their fate was to eventually partake in the reapings? Not to mention that they struggled to make ends meet and feed themselves when it was just the three of them. It all came down to the lack of education that was available in District 11. Birth control didn't exist, the Capitol probably wouldn't condone it either if her District knew of its existence or the possibility of it. After all, every child born was either a potential tribute or a new worker to care for the fields.

It wasn't easy for Maize to internally come to terms with the idea that she actually knew more about how things functioned (especially body wise) than her parents. In her first life, her dad was the smartest man she'd ever met. He was a successful surgeon. And even then, he never stopped wanting to learn more and widen his knowledge.

Birch was berry picking along with their mother, while their Nyanya watched the twins at home. Their Nyanya was her father's mother, she had come to live with them the year after her Uncle Banyan was executed by Peacekeepers.

He'd been caught planning a revolt against the Peacekeepers during a particularly bad harvest, a truly foolish endeavor according to a hushed and devasted conversation Maize had heard her parents have. Amla had been devastated by the death of her father but surrounded by the love of her remaining family she stood strong. Maize felt for her cousin. The girl had experienced true tragedy at such a young age.

Before then her Nyanya had been living with her father's sister, Calla, and her family. Maize loved having her Nyanya living in the house. The old woman had been alive for seventy years and could still vaguely remember the years before the Hunger Games came into fruition and the Rebellion that led to the destruction of District 13. The woman would tell her whispered tales in the dark of the night after a particularly grueling day of working on the plantations.

"When you walk through the storm/ Hold your head up high/ And don't be afraid of the dark..." The small but powerful voice of Orchid Thresh sung out from a couple of trees away called out.

The sun continued baring down upon Maize's shoulders, her muscles began to protest tiredly under the strain of her workload. But she knew better than to stop. It may have been nearing three in the afternoon but if a Taskmaster, a Peacekeeper in charge of making sure that they were completing a job, noticed that she was taking a break she'd get three lashes before being forced to climb once more.

"At the end of the storm/ Is a golden sky/ And the sweet silver song of the lark/ Walk on through the wind/ Walk on through the rain..." more voices joined in with the eight-year-old's choice of inspiration.

Maize breathed in wetly, ignoring the sweat coating her body and the sun's rays kissing her olive tanned skin, and let her voice join her District partners in song, "Though your dreams be tossed and blown/ Walk on, Walk on/ With hope in your heart/ And you'll never walk alone!"

Words: 1,159

Author's Note: I don't own any of the music that this fic will share. I thought it would be fitting for this story to share music that will reflect District 11 as well as other Districts (because of Rue). Let me know if you have any suggestions.

Edited: October 23, 2019