A/N:

Hello hello! As you can probably guess, this is a Hunger Games story. So first things first, Big ole' disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, the world, the characters (with the exception of Original characters), or anything of that variety. I am not Suzanne Collins though I owe her great thanks for creating such a beautiful, wonderful, raw, and horrific universe (and for letting me borrow it without permission). I would also like to say that I do not intend to glorify or make light of this world and the horror within it and if you ever feel that I have done that, feel free to reach out and message me, I am an amateur writer and this is how we grow.

So yeah, sad stuff, messed up stuff, basically all of the above. Probably don't read this if you aren't prepared for that. Also, I already have a rough draft of this story created but between college and work I have very limited free time to revise and rewrite. That being said, I promise to update as often as I can.

Last order of business before we get into this wonderful and tragic world: I would love to give a shout out to my amazing friend group I have gained this past year both for their friendship and their encouragement for me to finally take the leap and post this story. I love you guys!

- Mil

oOoOo

Chapter 1

The sun has yet to rise and still, I wake. I sit up and stretch. My room is dark but I don't care to turn on the light. I know what day it is. Reaping day. I rub my eyes and take several deep breaths to prepare myself for the day. Reaping day -July 4th- is the one holiday that Panem gets. Every young male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 in each of the 12 districts are corralled and 'reaped.' One male and one female are then sent to the luxurious Capitol where they are prepared for The Hunger Games. When you turn 12 your name is entered once, when you're 13, twice. And so on and so forth until you turn 18. There's also an option for extra food and supplies called Tesserae. Each ration of Tesserae earns you one extra slip of paper with your name on it. One more chance to be called into the games. My family doesn't need Tesserae and since I'm only 14 I know there's only a 3 in several thousands chance my name is drawn but still. I'm not oblivious to the poorer families of 4. We're almost one of them but there are some that scrape by with just enough food and money to survive and even a handful or so that can't manage that. It makes me sad but there's nothing much I can do. If I have extra food, sometimes I'll give them what I have on me but that's not much. I try to force the Reaping out of my mind with several more deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The smell hits my nose immediately: bread. But not just any bread, this is a savory seaweed fish-shaped loaf that is signature to District 4.

The smell draws me out of bed, propelling me forward and across the room, down the worn stairs that have belonged to my family for generations. For District 4 the house is small but not poor. My dad is a fisherman, and one of the best too, so we typically make enough money to get by with relative comfort. Not enough to afford a big fancy house though. I round the corner at the bottom of the stairs and can see my father in the kitchen from across our living room. I can tell he's trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake my younger brother Storm. It's his second Reaping so his name is only in twice but he was up late last night with nightmares and anxiety.

"It's early, what're you doing up?" My father has obviously seen me. I cross our living room and enter the kitchen. I note the bottle of sleep syrup on the counter. Storm must have taken some the night before. I put it in our small medicine cabinet, next to a bottle of morphling.

"Practicing getting up earlier so I'll be adjusted when they move me to fishing." I see the loaf of fish-shaped bread on the counter, freshly baked with a slight green hue from the seaweed. I grab a knife and cut the head off the fish loaf.

"They confirmed your change?" He asks, surprised. I shake my head,

"Not yet but I've been the top cleaner for almost a year now. I talked to Grise about it and she said I have a fair chance for promotion if I keep it up." I don't mind cleaning the fish. Scrubbing the scales off, gutting and fileting them, and beheading them. The smell is pretty foul but I don't want to clean fish forever. I want to be like my father but only the best behaved, highest achievers get fishing privileges. My father nods and takes a slice of the headless fish bread. I take a bite. The saltiness of the seaweed hits first. My mouth waters and I am once again reminded that I am lucky my father knows how to make this bread. It's not uncommon to be able to afford to make the loaf at home and we could always buy some if we didn't feel like baking, but I think it's better homemade. I don't care who says it's basic for me to love this bread so much. It's salty, it's delicious, and my mouth will always water at the smell of it.

"That's good. I'll tell ya, it's a different world out there. Sure the watch of Peacekeepers is annoying but usually the rules are looser out there." His blue eyes sparkle as he talks about the ocean and I find myself wishing desperately to survive the day just so that I can one day go out on one of the big fishing trips. It's hard when he's gone for several weeks but he always stocks up on anything we could possibly need. I don't typically get to see my father except for in the evenings when I get home from working.

"I'm gonna head to Carter's for a bit but I'll be back before the Reaping,"

"Oh all right, try and be back soon though? Storm's petrified and there's no way his name's getting called today." I nod. I just want to see Carter beforehand as he'll be eating with his mother tonight. She'll need comforting. She won't ever talk about why but after every Reaping, according to Carter, she becomes almost despondent, then, when she thinks Carter is asleep, she cries herself to sleep. I give my dad a quick hug, feeling his sandy blonde beard touch the top of my head. I tiptoe upstairs and change into some plain day clothes. The walk to his house is so short it's almost comical. We're neighbors. That's how we became friends. I see Carter in a rocking chair on their front porch and walk to him. When he stands he's just taller than me. I'm still mad about this because for the longest time I was the taller of us.

"Morning Cam," He says. A strong wind chooses this moment to blow by causing my hair to fly over to one side. Carter's laughter makes me smile, and we don't smile on Reaping Day. We walk to the beach together and the wind tosses Carter's dark brown curls around too. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It'll be even better once the sun is actually up, but yes." For a long time neither of us say anything, we don't have to. When we're together, I'm at peace.

"Mom's been on one this morning, I can't be gone for too long."

"I know. I just wanted to see you since I won't tonight." He nods,

"Tomorrow though?" Now it's my turn to nod. I stand, dusting the sand off my pants and offering a hand to Carter. As he stands he sighs,

"See you in a bit?"

"Yep." We walk to his house and as we go to part ways he catches my hand and gives a light kiss to the back of it. I smile, this is something he has always done since the day we met. The sun has just started to show itself by the time we arrive home. When I walk in, the house still smells like bread.

"You're up early," I say, trying to tease Storm who sits on a stool at the table nibbling on a piece of bread.

"You're out and about early" He replies. I cross our main room and give him a hug and small peck on the top of his head. He wraps his arms around my waist. "We're gonna watch the Reaping live until we have to go."

"I know." I see my dad come into the kitchen with an armful of assorted foods, "While we're waiting for it to start, you want to help us prepare the snacks?"

"Yep" He didn't help last year but it's just become a tradition. In the morning we make snacks, not too much but enough to give us something to munch on during the other districts plus something for after our Reaping. Today we make an arrangement of cheese, some orange and lemon slices, and dried seaweed.

The broadcast starts early, about two hours before the first tributes are actually reaped. They show highlights of the previous year's winner, in this case, the boy is actually from our District. Sure enough, the face of Finnick Odair is on screen. His time in the arena is showcased and as it is I am reminded that because District 4 won last year, we probably won't this year. I look at the videos of Finnick in the arena and feel hollow. I went to school with him, I even liked him for about a year or two. Maybe a bit longer. He smiles but to me it seems…off. And why shouldn't it be? He was a kid forced into a kill-or-be-killed situation. I decide I won't be arriving at the town hall and square of District 4 until I absolutely have to as there are usually several people who are pulled aside by interviewers each year in the winning District.

District 4 is the second to last District to be reaped. The boy and girl from 12 look so small and their only previous Victor is very obviously drunk. If I had to guess he's probably the laughingstock of the capitol. The girl from District 8, Maize, stands tall but her lower lip trembles for a fraction of a second. I think she's 16. I find myself thinking about how pretty she is, her dirty blonde hair spills over her shoulders and almost all the way down her back. The boy she's reaped with seems to look almost resigned but like he's trying to keep a lid on it. The difference between the boy and girl from eleven makes me stifle a gasp. The boy is large and stands tall wearing an unreadable expression. The girl is small and tries to hide the tear falling down her face but the cameramen know what they're doing so a glimpse of a tear is projected on the big screen. The boy from 1 practically leaps forward to volunteer. The girl from 5 wears an almost unreadable expression but the touch of fear in her eyes is noticeable, at least to me. I end up refilling the snack platter twice throughout the morning as the reapings continue.

We prepare to leave when there are just four districts left to be reaped, District 4 included. I quickly comb out my hair, I don't care to dress up, I'll wear normal clothes today. I hold Storm's hand the entire way to the town square until we're split up to go to our respective sections. The amount of hype District 4 receives is genuinely amusing to me. Some people actually do train for the games despite that being illegal, but most of what we know comes from the profession we have. We weave nets, use tridents, spears, fishing poles, climb ropes on boats, and use knives to gut fish. But it's not real training. I like to think of us as 'The kind-of Careers' for that reason.

I don't see Finnick so if I had to guess he's off preparing to be interviewed. I'm packed in tightly with the other girls in my age group. I catch a glimpse of my father next to Carter's mom, holding her shoulder. She looks horrible and I wonder again what horrific thing she must have witnessed to be so affected by the reaping. Most people in District 4 have sandy-blonde hair and she is no exception. It sits behind her shoulders in a low ponytail. Her eyes are rimmed with red and pity washes through me. I find Carter and Storm both in the crowd too. Carter looks like he'd rather be by his mothers side and Storm looks like he's going to be sick. I'm not actually worried about his name getting called though because the odds are so slim. I wouldn't be worried for Carter either due to the massive population of district four but there's a gnawing sensation in my gut that tells me it's going to be him.

After standing in silence for an insufferably long amount of time I see the Mayor and two others take the stage. They take their seats and I realize Mags is missing. She won the 11th Hunger Games and until last year, was the only victor from District 4. The other two people are Finnick and the Capitol escort of District 4, Scarlett Stonebrook. The Mayor gives a speech about the Treaty of Treason, why we're sending kids to go die, and why President Snow is ensuring our safety or whatever nonsense they say. I don't listen because I don't care. He reads off the list of victors: Mags Flannigan, and Finnick Odair, then passes the microphone to Scarlett. As she takes the stage I find myself silently chanting, 'Not me. Not me, and not Carter.' If her makeup weren't so gaudy, she would be so much more attractive. Today she must have decided to stick true to her name as everything on her is some violent shade of orange-red. Her hair is such a dark orange it's almost red as it shines in the heat of the afternoon light. My absolute favourite thing about her appearance though, is the no doubt artificially implanted whiskers she has on her cheeks, only three on each side from what I can tell. Today they are dyed red. The whiskers are both shocking and horrifying to me, but also kind of cool. Her blood red lashes are so long they must be fake because I can see them almost fifteen rows away from her. Even her burnt-orange heels match her name. They clack through the silence as she crosses the stage. She gives a few bright and peppy words then steps to the large glass bowl with the girl names. Her hand swishes and swirls around in the papers as she makes a show of what name will be called. She chooses a paper envelope from the bowl and walks back to the microphone. I glance at Carter and notice the wind has tossed his curly hair around slightly. He mouths something at me, I don't catch it but he mouths it slower and I understand: "It's not going to be you." I give a slight nod gesture for him to fix his hair. He does and I look back to Scarlett, she unfolds the little paper and speaks,

"Camille Wildefall." Well so much for it's not gonna be me. Shock is the first thing I feel, followed by goosebumps but I quickly mask the shock on my face. I have to keep my face expressionless, or at the very least, not show fear. The crowd begins to part around me and I make my way to the stage. Nobody here will volunteer for me. As I walk I lift my chin and give a small smirk, hoping to conceal the terror I actually feel. I make my way up the stairs and give Scarlett a hug before she can offer me one that she always offers tributes. The word sends a shiver up my spine. This is real. I am a Tribute. Her whiskers tickle my cheek but I'm too stunned to react. I break away from the hug. I keep a small smile on my face but the numbness is starting to creep in.

"And how old are you dear?" She asks,

"14" I reply numbly,

"Oh dear, quite the young warrior here," I move to my place on her right side as she crosses to the boys bowl. Again she makes a show of pulling out a slip. She walks back to the microphone and I look out at the boys. Carter is looking up at me with an expression I've never seen on his face before. I don't want to take my attention away from him but I see his eyes go to Scarlett and I follow his gaze. She looks at the paper and for a split second, something flickers across her face. She looks out to the boys then back to the card, and pauses for dramatic effect.

"Storm Wildefall."