Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

District Ten

Diego Butcher, 17

The fox screamed and thrashed against the trap, rattling the cage as it whipped round in an attempt to free itself. Diego drew his knife. Pests and predators like foxes and coyotes were common in Ten, and needed to be culled from ranches, as they'd kill, maim, and terrify the beasts there. Diego knelt by the cage, thrust his arm through a gap in the bars, and plunged the knife through the fox's eye.

It gave one last dying shriek and fell still.

Diego hauled the cage open and dragged the body out. It was a scrawny thing, it must have been struggling for food like everyone else out here.

Well, now it could be the food.

Diego hacked off one of the legs and wrapped it in his brown cloth before packing it into his bag. He, Austin, and Shane could share that one, and give the rest of the body to the rest of the ranchers. He had to give them the lion's share, else they'd be suspicious, and then he'd have to fight for it, but he could get away with taking a leg. He'd done so before.

As he walked back to the main barracks, the sound of a hovercraft passed overhead. Diego looked up, but it must have been camouflage, or too high for him to see. Barely a minute later, a third went over. Then a fourth. Something must be happening somewhere. They almost never flew quite so many.

His timing was good; Austin was just returning home from classes as Diego reached the ranch. Shane was still coming down from the upper fields, Diego could see his approach.

"How was school?" he asked.

Austin grinned. "It was fun! Mrs Johnson brought her new TV, so we could watch these old shows she had on cowboys. I liked the ones with the guns the best; they were awesome!"

Diego had needed to drop out of school when his parents died, so he could support them, but he remembered those shows. Mrs Johnson showed them to all her classes.

"Well, I got us something good to eat. Come on, let's drop this off at the kitchen and we'll find somewhere to cook it."

Hunter Maren, 16

Bison, a young townie thirteen year old who had just started attending extra classes, dithered over the box containing a rabbit. "Do I have to?"

Hunter nudged Dakota and nodded at the brat. His sister rolled her eyes and turned the page of her book. He looked at Mikey, who was shaking his head at the other thirteen year old.

"It won't be animals you're killing in the arena," said Jessie.

Bison squeezed his eyes closed and stabbed the knife down at the rabbit, piercing it through the back.

"That's one way of doing it," muttered Hunter.

Mikey laughed. "Wimp."

Dakota clipped him round the ear with the book. "Play nicely."

Jessie looked at the rest of the gathered students. "It'll be someone else's turn tomorrow. Now, let's cover what you have to hand to use as a weapon if you had to."

"Belt. Jacket. Boots," said Mikey.

"My hands," said Hunter.

"Dakota?" asked Jessie.

Dakota tested the weight of her book and threw it at Jessie's chest. He ducked, and it caught him in the head instead. "You little bitch!"

Dakota stood, retrieved the book, and retreated to a windowseat, where she flung herself down and tossed her legs up.

"That is not what I meant and you know it!" spluttered Jessie.

Dakota shrugged and sifted through the book to find her page again. A few of the other teens had stopped what they were doing to stare and snigger.

Paloma Cassidy shook her head and passed Jessie a wad of tissues to try and staunch his nosebleed. "You ought to know better than to ask these lot questions like that."

Angus arrived five minutes later, slinking across the wide room they had been given for these extra lessons and taking the chair beside him. "What did I miss?"

"Dakota smashing Jessie's face with a book," Hunter replied with a straight face.

Angus burst into laughter. "Man, I wish I hadn't been late! C'mon, you wanna fight?"

Fighting, here in District Ten, was exactly that. It wasn't the pretty training Hunter imagined the tributes got in One, oh no. It was quite literally the two of them beating the shit out of each other until one of them couldn't fight any more, at which point the Victor 'killed' them with whatever weapon they had to hand.

Hunter usually won. Today was no different. He and Angus were both strong, but Hunter was slightly faster. Hunter wrapped his hands around his neck. "Dead."

Angus stuck his tongue out slightly and clutched his heart, moaning dramatically. Hunter kicked him. "Moron."

District Eleven

Cashew Murphy, 12

Science books were rare in Eleven, and Cash wasn't sure where her grandparents had found their newest gift to her. She didn't want to question it. If she did, they might take it away again.

Cash tapped the acidity page. She didn't have half the materials needed for these experiments, but maybe she could improvise. Tomato would surely help her collect what she needed.

She grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk and began to scrawl down ingredients. Baking powder should work instead of yeast, and she might be able to get sodium percarbonate from one of the cleaners in place of hydrogen peroxide. They only had plain soap, but that would do well enough.

Sometimes Cash wished she lived somewhere else. Somewhere with more supplies. She needed more time, too, time to carry out her experiments. Maybe she could invent a time machine. But it would have to be one that reversed her ageing too, otherwise she wouldn't really be buying herself any more time. She'd have to go back to about eighteen though. Cash hated being of reaping age. No need to do it twice. Even if she was lucky enough to only have her name in the bowl once.

"I need to get these things," she said, grabbing Tomato.

"What things?" called her grandmother, but Cash had already closed the door behind her.

"So what are we making?" asked Tomato.

"Thermal paste. It has a cool reaction."

"Alright for some," grumbled a younger boy as he passed. "Little Miss Moneypants."

Cashew scowled after him. "It's not like–"

Tomato sighed. "Cash, don't."

"But he–"

"He's only jealous."

Tomato was two years younger than her, but she'd always understood people better.

"Fine," Cash muttered, then grinned and took her sister's hand. "Come on. I really want to try this."

District Four

Abalone Pereira, 18

The Academy was a blur of noise around her, but Abalone was focused on her task, slamming blow after blow into the punching bag. Plenty around her had formed friendship groups, but she'd always preferred to be alone.

No one to betray her that way.

All that mattered was her and her task.

Abalone slammed her foot into the punching bag, sending it flying back against the wall, before stepping back out of the circle. Her breathing came in ragged pants.

"You done with that, Pereira?" asked Zale. He was her age, though had been at the Academy far longer. Still, Abalone could match him. She'd worked for what she had, unlike him and his spoiled brat of a sister.

"Be my guest," she replied, turning away to fetch her bolas. She'd take a few rounds of target practice and spend some time in the ring before her run home.

"Come on and warm up! We could be allies!" he shouted after her.

Ass.

He was right, they could end up as District partners in the next Game. Or not; Zale was only second best after all. Not like his sister, who people were already proclaiming would be a Victor. Arika Tulius was almost too perfect, and Abalone hated her for it.

The ranged weapon hall was quiet. From all the books, there was a time when this Academy would have with life, but those days had long passed, along with her father. There were even those that suggested shutting the entire thing down. That hadn't been done, it was traditional, but expensive to maintain.

Sometimes Abalone thought about her father using these same halls, walking this floor, smiling and laughing with the District partner that helped to kill him.

Who needed enemies with allies like that?

She could do without them.