Like all who were reaped, Lily had been caught off guard, to put it mildly.
It was impossible. She was only fourteen. Her name was only in the bowl three times. As a well to do family of District 11, she and her siblings had never signed up for tesserae.
Yes, both of her parents worked, which wasn't exactly common among District 11 elite, but her mother had always said that making and remaking dresses and suits for their class was more of a pastime than a job. Her father's job kept them well fed, all six of them.
Lily had never known the hunger that accompanied most of her classmates.
She'd never considered herself to be proud or stuck up. Often, she gave away at least part of her lunch, discreetly, to a classmate who needed it more. So did all of her siblings--two brothers and one sister. Their mother knew--she gave them extra food during the school year, with that implicit understanding.
A few rolls here, extra cheese, fruit, even the muffins that were a birthday treat to most of her poorer classmates. They received them happily, not greedily, because in District 11, people might try to take care of their hungry, but no one assumed it from their neighbors. And no one tried to steal. At school, you got whipped ten times for the first offense.
On the fields, you got a bullet in your head.
Lily and her siblings still worked the fields during school breaks. Not as long as some of her other classmates, but she put in mornings and afternoons.
Not anymore. When she heard her name, she knew her lifespan had been reduced to the expected seventy to eighty years for the District 11 elite to, maybe, ten days.
She heard the murmurs from her surrounding classmates. Not her. She wasn't poor, like them. Lily's name was in the bowl--what--three times? Her family was rich, after all.
They stepped aside, because no one volunteered in District 11. Certainly not for someone like her. Who'd risk their life for a member of the elite, no matter how many lunches she'd shared?
Lily walked calmly to the podium, dazed. Tears should come, shouldn't they? This was a death sentence. But, mostly, she felt shock.
Her family came to say goodbye to her, of course. And, yes, Lily knew it was goodbye. Her mother gave her a series of strong hugs, followed by her father. They felt safe and warm, and she treasured them the way she would a hot, sugary muffin, straight from the oven, chocolate chips melted at the top. Her brothers were still of reaping age, but boys couldn't volunteer for girls. And no one would have expected Rosie, a mere twelve year old, to take Lily's place.
"This is for you," Mama told her, after releasing Lily for the fifth time.
It was a necklace with a wooden ball in the middle. Passed down for the past three generations, no one knew the precise story behind it, only that it had been in their father's side of the family since before the Rebellion.
"Are you sure?" Lily asked, clasping it in her hands.
"Of course," her father spoke up. "It will remind you of us in..."
He didn't finish the sentence. Rosie began to cry, but not sob. Her tears were quiet ones.
No one tried to give Lily any advice for survival. That was, she supposed, for her mentor. Seeder or Plower, she guessed. Whichever one was handling the mentoring for the girl this year. Her.
But Lily had no special skills. Some of her classmates were good at foraging, which was permitted as long as you didn't steal the crops. Wild berries and nuts and the like hovered around parts of the district. Apples, too, that were too small (and often worm-infested) for anyone to care about. Also, with a good sized rock, you could bring down a groosling. The Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to this.
"Better to kill and eat the mockingjays, but you'll never take down one," a Peacekeeper had commented, once, when they'd been enjoying a groosling.
No, Lily would surely be the first to go. She wasn't even a fast runner. She had no skills that could be used to defend herself, or hurt others. The best she could hope for was a relatively painless death.
Too soon, they were gone. The Peacekeepers grabbed her, not roughly, but strong enough that there was no escaping them. Once on the train, Lily glanced at her district partner. The other boy who, as the members of District 11 would say, the odds weren't in their favor.
He could be a contender. He wasn't as tall as some, a bit under six feet, but he looked strong. He wasn't from her elite class, either, so he could likely forage for food. District 11 might only have five living victors, but many games resulted in at least one making it past the final eight.
Nearly all males. Later, to be targeted by the Career tributes. Still, Ash had far money of a chance than she did.
Maybe he'd win this year. The last time had been when she was eight. She remembered Parcel Day each month, and her mother discreetly giving theirs away to families who needed it. It hadn't even occurred to Lily to protest.
Now, Lily gave him a tentative smile. He paused, then returned it.
They took their seats on the train. Lily hadn't caught his name, and maybe he'd forgotten hers. But it was best to remain quiet. They'd be addressed before long. Lily stared out the window, watching the rows of harvest crops pass by in less time than she could count to five.
Lily still didn't cry. She felt more hollow than anything else. Her upcoming death was inevitable. No matter what her training score would be, no matter what the calculated odds were, she would die in the arena. She wouldn't last an hour.
She heard footsteps, then the voice of a train attendant. "Lunch is ready, if you will follow me."
Did they have a choice? Lily wasn't at all hungry. But she didn't relish the idea of being dragged, or being force fed. If they did those things to the reaped...
The boy rose first, with enthusiasm. Lily had never seen him before. He was older, probably, and not a child of the elite. Perhaps he hadn't even had breakfast that morning...
Despite her initial lack of hunger, the smells alone were enough to make Lily change her mind. At home, they ate well. Good, fresh food. Dessert every might. Chocolate at least once a week, something most of her classmates had never even heard of until they tasted one of her mother's muffins. When handed one, and after tasting it, they either scarfed it down in nearly a single bite, or ate it so slowly that Lily thought it might last for hours. Then, there were those who would only eat half, or less, because they had other brothers and sisters to share with.
The sheer amount of food could feed her family for three days. When she tastes her soup, it was richer than anything she'd ever had. Lily knew she would need to be careful. Even if she didn't indulge, the food might not settle well in her stomach.
The boy had no such concerns. In the time Lily had eaten less than half, his was gone. He had taken a few rolls, too.
Then, the mentors arrived. It was Seeder and Thresh this year. Seeder gave Lily a hug in greeting, and Thresh shook her hand.
"We missed the first course," Thresh joked.
Another attendant appeared, carrying a large bowl of soup.
"Set it down," Thresh commanded, glancing at him.
He nodded, obeyed, and then left.
Moments later, more food appeared. Some sort of chicken in a sauce. Well-fed as Lily had been, meat had not been part of their daily diet. Eggs once or twice a week, but actual meat was reserved for special occasions. Despite having eaten half a bowl of soup, she felt hungry for the first time.
As delicious as it was, Lily forced herself to take small bites, slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Seeder watching her.
"Best to take it slowly," the older woman said, a few moments later. "As good as this food is, your stomachs likely aren't used to it. Pace yourself, or it may come up later."
"Besides," Thresh added, after swallowing his drink, "this is only the beginning. For the next week, all your meals will be like this."
Yes, and then they'd starve or be slaughtered in the arena.
"Fatten us up before the killing?" the boy asked.
"Give your body strength to fight," Seeder corrected, mildly. She studied them, or as well as she could from across the table. "You don't look starving, but 11 is hardly a district that..." She trailed off for a moment. "Food isn't usually in abundance."
"Unlike some of the others," Thresh continued. "The odds are in their favor, for sure, but only one of them can win. Besides..." He gestured towards himself and Seeder. "We've done it."
Lily wanted to roll her eyes. This was the 68th Hunger Games, and 11 had won precisely five times. Unlike 2, with over 30 living victors. And 9 who had died of old age.
Still better than 12, with only one living victor--and a drunkard, at that. No wonder no one else had won since him.
Over dessert, they discussed training plans and the upcoming ordeal with their stylists. It sounded like it would be dreadful. Lily did find out her partner's name was Ash. Most of the people in her district gave their kids names from nature, or related to harvest. "Lily" was obviously a name based in nature.
Despite having eaten slowly, Lily still ate at least twice as much as she would have at home. But, an hour later, she didn't feel sick. Perhaps, eating slowly and leaving half the food on her plate was the way to go. At least, for now.
The train ride ended sooner than Lily would have liked. The Capitol looked massive and imposing, and the people outright freakish. What would her stylists do to her? Lily felt her heart race, then remembered that every kid in the arena had looked mostly normal. Probably, they'd just give her a bath and put her in a costume that reflected her district.
While she stared, Ash glared. Even raised his fist at them. But they looked, if anything, amused.
He was a fighter. An animal there for their entertainment. Lily...was nothing.
A/N My second attempt at a HG fic. Send feedback if you want me to continue.