TW: Animal pain in Vetiver's POV. Fire damage in Moriko's POV. DM me if you prefer a summary.
Vetiver Brune, 18, District 10
8 years before the reapings
The Brune Family lived at the very edges of District Ten, separated from the hustle and bustle of the main meat industry. The Brunes commodity was more niche.
Jonquil Brune made his living providing the Capitol with copious amounts of badger meat and fur. Badgers were popular in the Capitol and made for a fine profit, so Jon ensured his hunting license was always up to date. He had to provide for his family.
On the human side, Jon only had his son, Vetiver. Jon's siblings and their children were scattered around the District, hunting like the Brunes did. But he rarely saw them. Not that he minded. The arrangement worked well for them all, as it guaranteed no one was poaching off the others' lands.
Jon and Vet couldn't do what they did without the help of their pack of pups. With seven dachshunds by their side, they were able to hunt and gather the highest quality fur and meat. The Brunes supported themselves well, as well as they could in the outskirts of Ten.
At an early age, Vet was responsible for caring for each dog while his dad handled the hunts. Vet loved every second of his job, and he genuinely enjoyed the company of his four-legged friends.
It was when he was ten that things started to change.
"I think it's time you learn some foundations of hunting," his father explained to him. Vetiver nodded solemnly. He had no interest in hunting, despite understanding its importance, he had no desire to witness it. But he obliged, and soon enough, he and his father were preparing to head off into the woods with their loyal pack.
Before they left, Jon told Vet that he had a present for him and left for town. Vet's curiosity peaked, and when Jon returned with a large hawk perched on his arm, Vet's eyes widened with joy.
"Your aunt sends her regards," he said as he let his son meet the hawk. Vet knew his aunt raised and bred hawks, but he never imagined he would be able to have one of his own.
Vet named him Fletcher, and the two bonded instantly. Jon instructed Vet to bring him hunting that day, along with Jon's own hawk, Kodiak, and five of their loyal dachshunds, Roscoe, Maverick, Skipper, Selkie, and Carter. Other than Roscoe, the dachshunds were all still juveniles, just like Vet. He felt comforted in their presence.
Despite all of that, Vetiver still felt anxiety engulfing him as they moved through the woods, hawks circling around them. All the pups were scattered around the two of them, sniffing out their prey.
In an instant, one of the hawks spotted something, and everyone sprung into action at once. The dogs were off, chasing after the small rodent while the hawks flew above it. The two Brunes tried to stay on their heels, but the mammals were all faster than their human counterparts.
Screeching, yelping, and ripping. Those were the noises Vetiver heard as he and his father got closer to the scene. They had found a badger; Vet knew that much for sure.
Jon reached the rodent, yet the whimpers didn't stop. Vet looked at his dogs. Roscoe, Maverick, and Skipper were all okay. Carter circled his dad, also fine. Selkie. Where was Selkie?
Vet saw her just barely above the grass line. She'd collapsed to her side, her breathing heavy. As Jon collected the badger, Vet ran straight to Selkie.
Blood covered her fur. Vet kneeled, and gently lifted her into his lap. Too soon did his lap become stained with blood. Her blood.
He heard the last squeal from the badger in between Selkie's whimpers. Jon dealt with whatever remained of the animal, while Vet tried to save her.
He put pressure on the wound. He tried to clean it. He did everything he thought was right. It wasn't enough. Selkie took her last breath in his arms that day.
(The badger that took her life wasn't even salvageable. The young pups had done too much damage to it.)
The walk home was painful. Jon had no words. He didn't know how to comfort his grieving son.
(He was grieving a bit, himself.)
Vet never wanted to hunt again after that day. After they buried Selkie, and said their goodbyes, he disappeared into his bedroom. Jon couldn't get him out for days. The only family Vet saw were his pups.
The years passed, and he managed to stay fiercely loyal to his family, including his father. Jon had tried to do a better job of explaining the necessary dangers of what they did, and Vet did a better job of understanding it. His love for his dogs never waned, and to take care of them, he had to work.
Slowly, he made his way back out into the forest. At first, with his father, hawk, and pups, but soon enough, with only his falcon and pups. Double the hands led to double the profit, almost. The Brune boys even caught plenty of things that weren't badgers, and some of the more common pickings they were able to keep for themselves.
Unfortunately, the Capitol had no respect for those who dwelled in the districts. Yearly quotas for pelts increased, and it was hard for the Brunes to keep up.
But they did what they had to do to meet it. Vetiver and Jonquil each took their own hunting paths and returned every few days with their haul. They would have returned less, but the dogs needed breaks. That was one thing they were adamant about.
Other than the horrible accident with Selkie, it had been smooth hunting for the last eight years. Vet never loved the killing part of the job, but he slowly learned to accept it. He also found how much he preferred spending time with the dogs than with people. He loved his father, of course, but he could do without the rest of the district.
And as long as he stayed hunting, he never had to endure it.
A week before the reapings…
It was a particularly hot hunting day for Vetiver and his animals. He was joined by Fletcher, Maverick, Sylvan, and Sherwood. Sylvan and Sherwood were some of the younger pups in the family, and their energy was good for hunting.
It should have been a normal hunt. Vet was carrying a large bag on the last day of his hunt path, and he wanted to return to the house to give everyone a break from the heat. Besides, he didn't want to risk the quality of their game to decline.
He had already started to check out when Fletcher indicated him to nearby prey. Within a second, Maverick was sprinting towards it, with Sylvan and Sherwood close behind. Vet did his best to keep up.
The pups downed the prey, but not without an ear-piercing screech from Maverick. Vet rushed to his side, taking down the badger before turning to the pup. His back leg was missing a large section of fur, and blood covered the ground under his paw. Vet wasted no time. He scooped up the little dog and sprinted back to his homestead. Memories of Selkie's death scarred his mind, and he had no focus on anything but the dog in his arms. If Sherwood hadn't picked up the badger in her mouth, Vet would've gladly left it behind.
When he returned, Jon was nowhere to be seen. He brought Maverick inside and laid him down on one of the beds. The retired dogs, Roscoe and Dax, whimpered with concern, but they stayed out of the way as Vet did what he could to ease Maverick's pain and heal the wound. He did his best, Maverick wouldn't lose the leg. But Vet was worried he would always walk with a limp.
It was dark before Jon returned home. His haul wasn't much better than Vet's was. And his concern for Maverick was just as great. But Vetiver's pleas for medical intervention weren't successful.
"We're barely meeting our quotas, Vet. I'm sorry." Those words broke Vetiver's heart. He hadn't cried since Selkie's death, but he was overwhelmed. He couldn't handle it.
(How could he let something like this happen again?)
The boys made a deal. Jonquil would leave Vet to care for Maverick and the retired pups, while he returned hunting. Once he came back, they could evaluate their earnings and see what they could spare for Maverick's care.
It was the best Jon could agree to, so Vet let him. He took care of the house, and of his dogs, and he stayed strong for them. He distracted himself with things to avoid thinking about how easily the attack could have been avoided.
Yet as the day of the reaping loomed, and Jon had yet to make an appearance, Vet, once again, felt lost.
Chaffinch Canasto, 13, District 11
13 years ago…
In District Eleven, the split between the rich and the poor was a well-known one. One that those in the first category had no care to change. Some families were more benevolent than others, but even that benevolence only made it so far. The Mészáros family was no different.
Having resided in District Eleven since its creation, the Mészáros family was entirely traditional. Their large farmhouse was surrounded by acres and acres of orchards that funded their lavish lifestyle. But the Mészáros family was not the ones who tended these orchards or care for the animals living in the stables. No, that work was designated to those they hired.
They kept their workforce tight-knit, so as to dissuade those who might have considered theft. Those who worked for the Mészáros family worked there for the long hall. But the Mészáros paid them well and were kind enough.
One old maid had found comfort in the family. She had cared for the young children of the house and kept the mansion spotless. She woke up early and went to bed late, but she hardly complained.
It was a normal, brisk morning at the Mészáros family estate when the old maid's world changed. Unbeknownst to anyone, a small wicker basket was placed at the gates of the estate. Left unnoticed until the maid stumbled upon it. She thought it was a piece of trash at first, and almost left it be until she heard the cooing of a little baby.
Inside was a baby boy. Placed on his chest was a red handkerchief. Sewn into the cloth was a single word. Chaffinch.
The maid was at a loss. There was no one in the area, no trace of where the child came from or who he belonged to. But when he looked up at her with his beaming brown eyes, she knew she could not leave him.
But she knew she couldn't bring him inside the house. No, the Mészáros would not accept a new outsider into their walls. So she did the next best thing, she brought him to the stables. The stables that were never visited.
The first day he was in her life, she spent every hour outside with the little boy. She learned very quickly that when he saw her, he didn't cry. He just smiled and cooed. Out of all the children she had raised, he was by far the happiest. She didn't understand how.
(He didn't know he had been abandoned.)
The cries would start when she would leave. The cries that couldn't be heard by the time she reached the house. Cries that broke her heart.
She felt guilty. She wanted to provide for him, so badly. When she wasn't inside, taking care of the young daughter of her employer, she was outside with baby Chaffinch. His conditions weren't ideal, she reminded herself. But the little boy didn't know any different. Every time he saw her return to him, he smiled. He reached for her, laughing away. She couldn't help but smile back. A smile that would have disappeared had he gone to the district's orphanage.
The years passed and Chaffinch grew into a confident little toddler. The old woman called him Chaffinch Canasto, to make him feel like a normal kid with a normal name. She sewed it into the same handkerchief he arrived with so he never forgot. But Chaffinch did not care for normalcy.
As he grew he grew fast and, much to the old woman's dismay, loud. Spending all his time outside, he had picked up the frequent noises of the birds. Instead of using English with his adoptive mother, he simply chirped and cawed. Loudly. She did what she could to dissuade him, to teach him English instead. He learned English, he understood her words. But he never stopped making the noises of the nature that surrounded him.
(Maybe the noises comforted him. Maybe he was just a weird kid. Maybe he enjoyed getting a rise out of her.)
But he did listen to the old maid, and he lived his life unseen by the rest of the Mészáros family. It wasn't hard, they hardly went out to the stables. Even those that did get a glimpse of him ignored him. Maybe they thought he was her grandson. He didn't bother them, so they didn't bother him.
(Everyone in Chaffinch's life pretended he didn't exist. Everyone except his adoptive mother.)
Yet he didn't mind. Why would he? The beautiful outdoors were his and his alone. He didn't need strange people bothering him, or trying to take that away from him.
And outside is where he flourished. He climbed to the highest point of the trees and cawed to the nearby birds, and they responded just as eagerly. He jumped from tree to tree, singing the songs of all his friends. He climbed down from the trees and laid in the lush moss. He ran his fingers in the stream of water. He particularly enjoyed rainy days. It meant more people stayed inside, and he could sing and dance as much as he wanted without repercussions.
As he aged, he got braver. Just because the Mészáros family couldn't know about him, doesn't mean he had to fully disappear.
So he got creative. He left piles of berries on their front porch for them to decorate their shoes with. He left bird food closer to their patio so his bird friends could also decorate. He frequently relocated their front yard decorations, just to make them go a little insane. Chaffinch had no problem keeping himself entertained. Outside was his playground, and he knew how to play.
Not everything was always fun, unfortunately. Unbeknownst to Chaffinch at the time, with life came death. And Chaffinch was so deprived of normal human interactions, he lacked some understanding of aging. He never noticed how his surrogate mother was losing weight, or was having trouble bending over. So one day, when Chaffinch was around eight, and she stopped showing up, he didn't understand why. It took some time for an ache to tear at his heart. He had no idea how to make it go away. He had to cope. And how to survive on his own.
Fortunately, the orchard was rich with foliage, and Chaffinch was easily able to forage what he needed. Summer months were Chaffinch's favorite, while each winter got harder and harder. But he stole what he needed to survive and survive he had. Each passing winter reminded him that nothing is forever - it was strangely comforting.
He carried on as he always did, the stables were his home and the estate was his playground. He didn't understand what normal kids did, why they seemed to be stuck inside a building all day. He didn't understand why once a year, everyone gathered in the center of town and stood around for multiple hours. Or why each year, two kids stood on stage and cried.
In fact, he had no idea what the reaping was until he was twelve. He decided he wanted to join the crowds in town. He tried to join those outside the rope, but someone shoved him to a table. They asked him for his name, for his finger, and he answered how he was used to answering. With chirps.
The strange men in white took one look at the handkerchief he had worn around his neck and scribbled it down on the paper in front of them. They hurt his finger, then shoved him into the crowd with other boys and girls that looked like him.
(But they weren't like him. And he didn't want them to be.)
Like he had seen so many times before, two names were read, and two kids ended up on stage with tears on their faces. The crowd Chaffinch had been shoved into scattered, and he just went back home to his orchard.
It was an outing for Chaffinch Canasto, but it was not his definition of "fun". So he returned to messing with the Mészáros family and befriending the birds that flew around him.
One day, he would learn to fly like they could.
Moriko "Mori" Ostrya, 12, District 12
The Legend…
There was an old tale that floated around the twelfth district of Panem. As with all tales, some details changed based on who the storyteller was. But the main facts remained the same.
It was a cold night in the Seam, with many having already retired to bed. It was the time of year when the sun set sooner, and those who were trapped underground for most of the day never saw it rise.
Yet that night, they would see a light. A light that brought warmth, but not joy, nor relief. A fire would start in one of the houses within that Seam neighborhood. Within minutes, six others would catch fire. Not a single family survived the carnage. The only survivor was the one who started it all in the first place.
No one saw her face, as she disappeared as quickly as she arrived. She was deemed "The Firestarter", the one who murdered seven families in a single act of vengeance. She disappeared into the woods, never to be seen again. Yet they said she was still out there, waiting for another moment to strike. And when she did, all of Panem will burn.
Unfortunately for Moriko Ostrya, the truth was never as romantic as the tales.
The truth began with the Ostrya family. Mori and her mother and father were the average Seam family to those looking in. But to Mori, they were all she needed.
Her mother, Galina, worked as an apothecary and her father, Seika, worked in the mine. They worked lots, but Mori always had them. And that was enough.
She spent most of her hours with her mother in the forest, harvesting and planting various herbs and medicinal roots. Most kids would have hated labor under the beating sun, but not Mori. She loved the greenery and the peaceful sounds of nature. It was a beautiful contrast to the darkness of the Seam. Of the mine, where her father worked.
Galina struggled to get Mori out of the forest when their work was completed. Partially because she secretly wanted to live in the forest, and partially because she hated human interaction. She always said her parents were her best friends, and the only ones she needed. And Galina never minded changing that.
Although she spent most of her time with her mother, she loved her father just as equally. She saw him less, so she was unsure when his cough kept returning, and returning harsher each time. The long hours were taking a toll on his aging body, and eventually, he had to cut back his hours. Mori wasn't even seven yet, so she didn't understand the implications behind this decision. All she knew was she got to spend more time with him. Time she cherished.
(Time that was limited.)
Seika couldn't bear to be trapped in the house, so when Galina was in town selling her goods and healing services, he would take Mori into the forest. And since they weren't growing or gathering, they could simply explore.
Mori couldn't have been happier. She was still too young to understand what was truly going on. Sure, she noticed he struggled to catch up to her. She noticed his red face and frequent coughing episodes. But she didn't think much of it. Until the bad news came.
"I can't explore anymore, sweetheart," his words hurt. Not that they intended to, but they just did. She didn't see it coming.
(Despite the fact she saw the warnings. She was only seven. The world was not allowed to be cruel to her yet.)
But all wasn't lost, not yet. Galina still took her into the woods. Instead of wondering what could have been, she took advantage of the 'what was'. She would pick a new location in the woods and sit down with a piece of paper and a pencil and sketch it for her father to see. She wanted him to be familiar with the location so she could take him to them when he was feeling better. She even begged whatever might have been listening to help him heal. She begged in her house, then she begged when she was outside. But it didn't work. He got worse.
It was a cold night in the Seam. The sun had already set, and Mori and her father were sitting on the old couch together when Galina returned home from town. She was hungry, and so was Seiko, so Mori offered to cook for them. She knew they had a fresh carton of eggs, and eggs were a treat the Ostrya family couldn't partake in much. Besides, she had cooked with her mother plenty of times before. She could do it.
She placed the pan on the burners. She cracked the egg into the pot. She watched it carefully, flipping it timely.
But she moved the pan off the burner and turned away to ask her mother a question, a flame ignited behind her. A small one at first, so small it took Galina too long to notice. The wooden countertops of the cheap Seam homes were no match for this fire.
The fire licked the walls and Galina was rushing to her husband to help him up.
"What do I do? What do I do?" Mori was in a panic. Her mother took her arm.
"Go into the forest," she said, sweat pouring down her face.
"But, it's dangerous," Mori responded. She remembered the years of warnings from both her parents. The reasons she could never be out there alone.
"Go. We will find you," Galina demanded of her daughter. Mori listened. She was scared. The heat was too much for her. The ceiling pieces had begun collapsing. What else was she to do but run?
Ran she did, straight out of her house and straight into the forest. She didn't even remember to put on shoes. She ran until she could no longer feel the heat on her back. But that's when she made the mistake of turning around to look for her parents.
Not only was her house completely engulfed in flames, but so were the five or six houses nearby. Her heart dropped to her stomach. How could this be happening? How could a girl so inconsequential create an effect so big?
She wanted to run back and help however she could. But her mother's words lingered in her mind.
(She couldn't risk disappointing them anymore.)
So she stayed in the forest where her mother's herbs were growing. She waited throughout the night and into the morning. The flames had died down, but she had yet to see her parents.
(She knew what happened. She couldn't accept it.)
Midday, she made the trek back into town. To the ash that was once her family home. She saw two charred bodies and the sketches that she drew scattered around.
That was the last time Moriko Ostrya cried.
She fled back into the woods. Where she had always wanted to live. And that's where she remained for the next four years. She foraged and stole from passing hunters. She couldn't bear the thought of returning to the district. It would remind her of her fatal mistake.
But she was fine. She stole a beautiful serrated knife from a group of hunters. One that she was able to use to hunt game, and finally eat better than berries.
(She named it Hemlock. She would talk to it when she got lonely.)
She survived. All the while, staying angry at District Twelve. Angry at the Capitol.
But really, angry at herself. Her family was doomed from the start. District Twelve caused her father's illness. District Twelve didn't allow them to afford treatment or a home made of sustainable material.
And of course, "The Firestarter" tales started to spread. Mori heard the whispers from the hunters she stole from. It didn't take her long to put two and two together. She was The Firestarter.
It was when she was eleven did she realize the implications these tales could have on a person. She heard a scream close to her, and she decided to investigate. What she saw, shocked her.
A little boy, no older than her own age, surrounded by three or four larger boys. The little boy was crying, his face red from the fighting, or the tears, Mori couldn't tell. His eyes were wide with fear.
(The same fear that fell upon her parents that awful night.)
She didn't do anything but run then, she would not run now. She took Hemlock and approached the assailants. One look at her, and each bully stopped to stare. Fear took over their faces, and they ran, muttering "Firestarter" under their breaths as they ran.
The only one not to run was the little boy. He stared at her with wide eyes filled with curiosity. And maybe a little bit of respect.
His name was Aizen. And Moriko knew then and there, she would kill to protect him. Those who would dare to hurt him would run in fear at the sight of her. Those who would watch the Ostrya family burn to the ground and not lift a finger to stop it would lift that same finger to bring harm upon those too innocent to deserve it.
(Moriko Ostrya would show them who really deserved it. She would burn the entirety of Panem to the goddamn ground if that's what it took.)
Welcome to the fic Vetiver, Chaffinch, and Moriko! Subbed by darthnell, FlawlessCatastrophe, and ladyqueerfoot respectively, I hope you all enjoyed reading about these lovely children as much as I enjoyed writing them.
Up next, Aizen, Becca, and Hem.
See ya in two weeks.
~Moose