ᵗʳⁱᵇᵘᵗᵉ

‧₊˚🏹✩ ₊˚⊹

[ the reaping ]

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩. Our house was small, like every shack and cabin in District 12, and sound travelled quickly.

I immediately sprang up from the bed, dashing over to her shaking body as she shrieked, "NO! NO!"

I cradled her close, and she clung tightly to my body. I softly hushed her, "Shh. Shh. It's okay. It's okay." Her shaky breaths came out ragged as I stroked her hair. "You were just dreaming. You were dreaming."

"It was me," Prim croaked out. 

"I know. I know. But it's not," I reassured. "It's your first year, Prim. Your name's only been in there once. They're not gonna pick you." She sniffed, and I continued the soothing act. "Try to go to sleep."

"I can't," she whimpered.

"Just try. Just try." She slowly leaned up towards me, whispering in my ear and after a moment, I hummed, nodding my head. Prim fell back onto the bed, and I tucked the blanket around her small frame, stroking the wispy blonde hair from her sweaty face. I then heeded her wish, singing, "Deep in the meadow. Under the willow."

She smiled, joining in the gentle melody. "A bed of grass,
A soft green pillow."

"You remember that song? Okay. You finish it. I've gotta go." I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

"Where?" she asked.

"I've just gotta go. But I'll be back. I love you."

I walked down the stairs, grabbing my brown jacket from the coat hanger. Prim's cat, Buttercup, violently hissed at me, but I merely rolled my eyes. "I'll still cook you," I threatened, before stepping outside. 

I ran through District 12, casting glances to my neighbors. I watched as the first group of minors marched down the road, their metal buckets and tools clanking against each other with each step. 

I jumped over the stone railing, landing on the dam. The sun was now high in the sky, the white light allowing my shadow to return. 

Soon, I was at the fence. I disregarded the warnings of electric shock and boundary alerts, as I have done for the past couple years. I bent down through one of the safe wires, quickly entering the forest ahead. 

I looked around but found nothing suspicious. I stopped by a large fallen tree trunk and stuck my hand beneath it. There, the trusty polished wood of my bow came into contact with my fingers. I pulled it from its home, smiling slightly, before I made my way across some bushes. Another tree, though standing upright, was the hiding spot for my arrows. 

With my weapon, I wandered for a while through the forest, keeping my footsteps light and my breathing soft to not attract any attention. 

I finally came across some game; a deer. It stood still, and I would've missed it if it didn't move from its place to sniff the air. But just as I was about to fire the arrow, the deer moved again. 

I sighed, then took a handful of leaves from the ground, crunching them before letting them fly in the wind. They pointed out the current direction, and I took off in a swift run, following it. 

I stopped by a rockslide, where there was a large open space ahead. I glanced down, picking up a stone from the ground and hitching it against my bow's string. Pulling it back like I would an arrow, it flew through the air before hitting one of the boulders. The deer appeared again, startled by the noise. 

I moved closer, securing an arrow, but a voice called out and I huffed when the deer ran off yet again. "What are you gonna do with that when you kill it?"

In a last attempt, I shot at the animal, but it missed, sailing overhead. I whipped around, glaring at my best friend. "Damn you, Gale! It's not funny!"

"What are you gonna do with a 100-pound deer, Y/N/N?" he questioned again, using my nickname to try ease my scowl. "It's Reaping Day. The place is crawling with Peacekeepers."

He took one of the arrows from my quiver, inspecting it, and I ripped it back. "I was gonna sell it to some Peacekeepers."

"Of course, you were."

"Oh, like you don't sell to Peacekeepers."

"No! Not today."

"It was the first deer I've seen in a year. Now I have nothing," I groaned. 

He pursed his lips, before grabbing a rock. "Okay." When he reared his arm back, I cocked another arrow. I sent it flying when the rock caused a flock of birds to fly off, striking one of them. I smiled, chuckling alongside him. 

"And you're on my good side again," I smirked, but it dropped when a whirring sound and rough wind swirled the leaves and trees around us. 

Gale and I looked up, finding a Peacekeeper hovercraft, and he was quick to pull me close, running off into the heavier forest. We dropped down by a grove of thick greenery, staring up through the cracks. 

"What if they did?" Gale wondered. "Just one year. What if everyone just stopped watching?"

"They won't, Gale," I sighed. 

"What if they did? What if we did?"

"Won't happen," I shut down. 

"You root for your favorites. You cry when they get killed. It's sick."

"Gale-."

"If no one watched, then they don't have a game. It's as simple as that," he finished, looking back down at me, but I started to smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I snickered. 

"Fine, laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing at you," I denied. I grinned, watching as his face shifted into something more serious. 

"We could do it, you know. Take off, live in the woods. It's what we do anyway."

"They'd catch us," I started. 

"Well, maybe not."

"Cut out our tongues, or worse," I continued, looking away. "We wouldn't make it five miles."

"No, I'd get five miles," Gale stated, then he pointed in front of us. "I'd go that way."

"I have Prim, and you have your brothers."

"They can come too," he proposed. 

"Prim in the woods?"

He chuckled, nodding, "Or maybe not."

"I'm never having kids," I suddenly said. 

"I might, if I didn't live here," Gale remarked. 

"But you do live here."

"I know, but if I didn't." I turned my gaze to him, feeling the tension radiating off him. Before I could ask, he reached into his bag. "Oh, I forgot. Here."

I sprouted up from my seated position, clutching the bread in my hands. "Oh my God! Is this real?"

I opened from the center, sniffing the sweet aroma. "Yeah. It better be. It cost me a squirrel." I handed him the other half. "Happy Hunger Games."

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," I finished in my worst Capitol accent. I took a bite of the bread, savoring the taste, before looking back at him. "How many times if your name in today?"

He sighed, "Forty-two." My face twisted into one of pure shock, eyes widening. "Guess the odds aren't exactly in my favor."

After Gale went back home, I stopped at the Hob, the black market of District 12. I went Greasy Sae, handing her some berries I scavenged from the woods.

"Thank you, girl," she said.

"Mm-hmm," I nodded, taking the yarn of ball she handed me in return. My eyes latched onto the trinket trays on the side of her stall where a shining gold pin glinted in the harsh light. I picked it up, inspecting the bird on it. "What's this?"

"That's a Mockingjay," she answered.

"How much?"

She looked at me, then shook her head. "You keep it. It's yours."

I smiled, "Thank you."

Walking home, I watched as mothers dressed their children, sending them off with a tearful goodbye or a bone-crushing hug. 

"Mum," Prim called. She turned from the dishes, and before she could reply, I stepped inside with a gasp. 

"Oh, look at you!" I beamed, and Prim grinned as I leaned on my knees in front of her, taking her hands in mine. "You look beautiful. But you better tuck in that tail, little duck," I teased, pinching the piece of fabric into the back of her skirt.

"I laid something out for you too," Mum said, and I paused my movements. 

"Okay," was all I responded with. 

Entering the bathroom, I scrubbed my body with the already dirty water. It was unhygienic, but it got the job done. I cleaned everywhere, dousing my hair and face as well. When I finished and ventured upstairs, I was surprised at the sight of a gorgeous white dress. It was beautiful, to say the least, with silky sewed straps and embroidery. 

Downstairs, Prim gushed over the dress and how she thought I looked so pretty in it. She watched as Mum twirled my hair into a nice yet simple hairstyle. "Now you look beautiful too," she said with a soft voice. 

"Wish I looked like you," Prim pouted. 

I turned, shaking my head. "Oh, no. I wish I looked like you, little duck." Suddenly, the alarms sounded, and Prim's darling little face dropped. I was quick to change the subject, "Hey. You want to see what I got you today?" She nodded meekly, and I reached into my pocket, pulling out the pin from the market. "It's a Mockingjay pin. To protect you. And as long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you. Okay? I promise."

When the alarm blared again, she practically curled into me, and all I could do was hold her.

We arrived at the Reaping, and Prim and I were separated from Mum. I didn't say goodbye to her, simply waiting for my sister before we left. I held her hand in mine as we walked with all the other District 12 children. 

When Prim caught sight of the registry, she gasped, stopping in place. I pulled her to the side, kneeling in front of her and stroking her face. 

"Hey. Prim, it's okay. It's okay. Shh," I consoled. "Okay, it's time to sign in now. Okay? They're gonna prick your finger just to take a little bit of blood."

"You didn't say-."

"I know. I know. It doesn't hurt much. Just a little," I interrupted, cradling her pudgy cheeks. "Go sit down there with the little kids. I'll find you after, okay?"

Stepping in line, I watched as Prim went up, flinching at the needle, before she was shrugged aside to continue. 

"Next," the woman beckoned, and I stepped forward, already holding my finger out. I grimaced, but kept my sights on Prim the entire time, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. When I was finished, I speedily walked into the lines corresponding to age, a Peacekeeper pushing me into the 16-year old's group. 

It went silent as the mayor and his wife stepped out from the Hall of Justice, taking a seat on the line of chairs on the stage. I turned my head to 18-year old's, where Gale caught my gaze. He mouthed, "It's okay." I weakly nodded back.

Suddenly, Effie Trinket appeared from the Hall, her gold-dusted lips shining. The pale woman, clad in vibrant purples and magentas tapped the mic with her satin-gloved hand.  

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome," she sang. "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor." The silence was her response, but she shrugged it off with a petite wave. "Now, before we begin, we have a very special film. Brought to you all the way from the Capitol."

Gale mouthed yet again, "War. Terrible war."

I chuckled silently when the words were said aloud in President Snow's grainy voice from the screen. 

"Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained."

I glared with disdain at the outlandish display of history, watching as the scene shifted to brighter, more vivid clips. 

"And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. And the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so, it was decreed that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past-."

"This is how we safeguard our future," Effie recited along with him, and she smiled when it finished. "I just love that!" The music finished, and she spun back around to the crowd. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first."

She'll be fine, I thought to myself, letting out a wobbly breath. 

Effie strutted to the glass bowl where the tribute's names were printed onto a single piece of paper. She cleared her throat as she reached in, delicately ripping one out. Holding it up with triumph, she walked back to the mic. Opening up the paper, she read the name.

"Primrose Everdeen!"