Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

Andreas Amandiel, 18

Andreas had never felt less in charge. It was as though every time he tried to find his place, something else hit and he was confused all over again.

He'd gone to Marcellina's the night before, but by the time he got there, half the others had already left, more of them were planning to go to the Sterlings', and everyone seemed to be arguing with everyone.

Andreas had decided to come home again and sleep with Carnelion. It felt far more productive.

That was, until he was awoken in the middle of the night by the vibration of his comm unit.

He blinked blearily, tapping at the device. No name, no number, just an insistence that he had an incoming call.

Andreas rejected the call and lay down to sleep again.

But whoever was calling called back again and again and again, until he raised the comm and accepted the call.

Video was on, but he couldn't see anything except a strange swirl of shifting shadows, black on dark grey, everything twisted together like smoke.

"Hello?" he asked.

The line crackled and spluttered, flickers of white static flickering at the edges.

"Who is this?"

"There's a storm coming."

It was a girl's voice, strong and self-assured, though warped by the static.

"Await the wind and the rain and the streets will run red with blood."

"Who is this?" Andreas demanded again, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Beware the predators' howls; beware the claws of the wind. The shadow of the storm will take all in its path."

"Is this a bad prank?"

The line crackled a final time and went dead.

Andreas was left staring at his comm in the dark. Carnelion stirred beside him. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Andreas shook his head. "Prank call." He tossed the comm back on his nightstand.

There's a storm coming.

Zephyr had said that.

So had his creepy sister. Andreas had never met the girl, but he'd seen and heard her in the recordings of their Games, and heard the stories from the others.

Uneasily, he eyed his comm. Suddenly the dark felt suffocating, and his room was colder than it should be.

Andreas shook Carnelion awake. He woke with a start, his eyes fluttering open. "What is it?"

"Time to get up."

"What? What time is it?"

"Time to get up."

If he closed his eyes, he was sure, he'd be listening to creepy girls in his sleep.

He left his comm in his bedroom as they made breakfast and sat to eat in front of the holoscreen. Images from the waiting rooms of the current punishment Games were playing across the screens. In less than an hour, they'd be opened for the tributes to crawl across some great abyss.

Andreas's stomach turned.

Somewhere as great as the Capitol should be beyond barbaric acts like this.

Zephyr Almon, 13

"There's a storm coming, Zephyr." Celeste's eyes were bright, her dark hair framing her face, Poppy clutched to her chest.

"And what do I do?" He raised his hands, gesturing frantically. "How do I stop it? I don't know how to fight a storm!"

Celeste inclined her head, a sad smile playing across her lips. "You can't."

"Then why tell me? What am I meant to do? I can't get through to anyone! No one listens to me!" He stepped towards her. "I wish you were with me. You'd know what to do."

"You will know what to do." Celeste took his hands, her fingers flowing around them like water. "You've always been strong, Zephyr. You've always known what to do."

"But I don't!" he shouted as she began to fade away. "I don't know what to do! Celeste! Help me!"

He woke, cold and alone, in his own bed.

His room was dark, filled with the sound of rain beating against the window. The taste of death lingered in his mouth. Zephyr groaned and pressed his hands over his eyes.

There's a storm coming.

And he couldn't do anything to stop it. It felt like they were stuck watching an inevitable train crash, knowing what the oncoming disaster would be but unable to do anything to help.

Zephyr rolled from his bed and dressed as quickly as he could, pulling his blindfold into place. His bedroom was safe from the dead, usually, but they lived in the rest of the house, except for when they looked like his parents.

He knew his way around the apartment easily enough now, finding his way by touch and familiarity alone, and made his way through to the kitchen. Switching on the tap, he cupped his hands and stuck them under the water, splashing it over his face.

There's a storm coming.

The world was under stress and it was cracking, unable to hold against the strain.

"Zephyr?" A dead woman's voice, croaking through a broken throat. Zephyr knew she was dead; he'd seen her corpse.

"What are you doing, love?"

"Water," he said simply, reaching for where there should be cups. He found none.

"It's one in the morning!"

"I can still get thirsty."

Beware the monsters in the dark, whispered Celeste. You know how I saw you die.

Zephyr pressed himself back against the cabinets. He was shivering, chills running up his spine. "Mom?"

"Who else would I be, honey?"

"You sound different." He found the chopping board on the countertop. "Stay away from me."

"Zephyr…"

"Stay away from me!" He hurled the chopping board in the direction of her voice and rushed past her in the confusion. Grabbing his shoes, he wrenched the front door open and hurried into the hall.

"Zephyr!" shouted his mother's voice.

You can't stop what's coming, Zephyr.