"NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

As soon as I hear my sister's scream, my body awakes. I run from where I was standing, collecting my hunting jacket at the door, right into the next room, seeing Primrose shaking, eyes wide and teary, still screaming.

"Shh, shhh, it's okay," I instantly comfort, running at her and enveloping her in a hug, pulling her up slight. "Shhh, Prim, it's okay..."

Katniss says the only time I'm ever compassionate is when I'm with our younger sister. I have agreed with her on this.

So I don't blame Prim for having nightmares. Especially not on a day like today.

"Shh," I whisper again, stroking Prim's blonde hair, trying desperately to stop her from shaking so hard because her body is practically vibrating. "It's okay, you were just dreaming. You were dreaming."

"It was me," my sister gets out, and her voice sounds so terrified I almost snap.

"I know, I know, but it's not," I murmur. "Your name's only in there once, Prim, they're not gonna pick you. Try to go to sleep," I whisper, massaging her head.

"I can't," Prim wails into my chest.

"Just try, just try," I whisper.

Prim pulls back from me slightly, stepping up on her tiptoes as she whispers in m
y hear. "Can you sing?"

I hardly ever sing. Because that was my father's trait and I can hardly do better than him. But just occasionally, whenever Prim asks, I make an exception.

"Mm-hmm," I nod, and her lips twitch. She lies back down, her blonde hair fanning all around her head and her blue eyes shining with hope now, not fear.

I sit down next to her, resuming stroking her hair as I sing softly. "Deep in the meadow... under the willow..."

"A bed of grass, a soft green pillow," Prim joins in, smiling warmly.

"You remember that song?" I smile.

"Yeah," Prim nods.

"Okay, keep singing," I tell her. "I have to go."

Prim, who never likes hearing this, asks. "Where?"

I shake my head. "I've just got to go. But I'll be back. I love you."

She smiles. "Love you too."

I wait until her eyes are shut before I leave her bedside, standing up and walking over to collect my father's hunting jacket from where it hangs by the door. There, I take one last sweeping look around the house before I leave it. I see my mother, and Katniss, fast asleep in the threadbare bed next to Prim's. My own is next to their's, and is made and empty. No food lies on the table but plenty of utensils do for when I come back with tonight's food. Or tonight's celebration, I should say.

There's always one for (almost) ever family after the reaping, the day when a male and a female between twelve and eighteen years old are picked to go into the Hunger Games.

You see, our society consists of twelve districts and a Capitol. The rules of it are simple. The districts produce everything the Capitol may need, from fabrics to fuels to food, and in return the Capitol governs them and provides law and order. It's a simple concept, but the story is anything but.

There used to be thirteen districts, but seventy four years ago now, the districts revolted and organised an uprising against the Capitol. Eventually, the Capitol managed to overthrow them, but in the process they destroyed District Thirteen, who used to mine graphite.

But as punishment for this uprising, the Capitol decided to create a yearly tournament for the District, in which a male and a female twelve to eighteen year old from each would be reaped, taken to the Capitol, and thrown into an arena to fight to the death.

Today is my last reaping. I've managed to survive six of them, the amount of times my name going into the bowl increasing a lot each time. But today, I'm not thinking about myself. Katniss has her name in ten times, and Prim has her's in once. I'm dreading her their names more than hearing mine.

"Hiss!"

A high pitched sound snaps me back to life as I look down to see Buttercup, Prim's stupid cat that she saved from dying a few years ago, looking venemously at me.

"Watch it, or a knife's going through your neck," I snap irritably, before turning the handle of the door and heading outside.

The cool morning air hits me almost immediately and I fight not to shiver as I walk through the seam.

Of all the districts I could've been born into, I most certainly did not get the pick of the litter. I live in District Twelve, the coal miners' district. We're the poorest by far, and definitely the Capitol's least favourite's. Mind you, I'm not too keen on them, either, because they kill twenty three innocent children every year.

I also didn't get very lucky with my location in Twelve, either. Even though we're all starving and poor, the merchants and workers are slightly better off for food than people such as I, who live in the Seam. This is where all the coal miners live, as it's conveniently close to the mine entrance. I shiver as I think of that, as it was in a mine explosion that my father died.

So right now, as I walk through the seam, all I see are small, dirty wooden houses, and a bunch of hollow eyed, soot faced and ripped clothed miners, heading for work. I sneak round behind them, however, running past all of this. I'm not aiming for the mines or the shops, I'm aiming for somewhere very different.

When soot filled road turns to grass my heart seems to calm down, as I run down the small slope, making sure I'm out of eyesight for any closeby houses before I reach the fence.

This is the official border in Twelve, between the woods and the district. It's supposed to be electrocuted, and completely foolproof, but it rarely is here. I could be whipped or even shot for crossing it, but security isn't tight here and many of the peacekeepers who keep order round here buy the meat I catch.

So I find I have no fear as I duck through a gap in the wire, escaping Twelve. On the contrary, I feel freer. It's like all my worries leave me, and all I have left is myself. I rarely feel like this inside the fence.

Quickly, so as to stay undetected, I run through the small field before reaching the trees, now inside the woods.

I run throughout the trees, hearing bird calls and the crunching of leaves below my feet as I reach the hollow tree I leave my weapons in.

They're not much. Actually, it's just a belt of hunting knives. But they belonged to my father, and they hold a lot of memories for me.

I slip the belt around my waist and tighten it, smirking slightly as I take a knife from it. There's game waiting in the woods, and I'm going to have it.

Using my light hunter's tread, I slip throughout the woods and twist my knife in my hands, running my thumb along the cold metal.

Eventually, I spot a deer, swaying slightly in the breeze, innocent face just waiting for me.

Bingo.

Slowly, I raise my arm, holding the knife just like my father taught me, just like I should so it'll slit straight through the eye and leave the best meat to eat-

"What're you gonna do with that when you kill it?!"

At the shout, the deer starts to run and my knife goes squint, sticking right into a tree rather than the meat.

I turn to see my hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, a huge smirk on his face, climbing down to meet me.

"Fuck you, Gale!" I yell, sticking my middle finger up at him. "It's not funny!"

"What're you gonna do with a hundred pound deer, Sage?" Gale grins, reaching me. "It's reaping day, the place is crawling with peacekeepers."

"I was gonna sell it," I snap back. "To some peacekeepers."

As Gale scoffs, I roll my eyes. "Oh, like you don't sell to peacekeepers."

"No, not today!" Gale replies.

"That was the first deer I've seen in a year, now I have nothing," I tell him.

"Oh yeah?" Gale smirks, picking up a rock on the ground and chucking it at a nearby nest.

The birds fly rapidly from it as I quickly grab a knife, extending my hand and letting it go at the exact right trajectory so that one goes shooting down to the ground. Gale and I laugh, smiles lighting up our similar grey eyes and round noses, and wind blowing our dark hair. People often ask if we're related. We're not, it's just that everyone in the Seam looks the same.

But today isn't a day to marvel over how similar we look, because we've only got a small amount of time to hunt and gather and trade before the two names get pulled at two.

So we get to work. We hunt, gather and fish, managing to catch a load of birds and even a few squirrels as well as lots of herbs and some blackberries.

Eventually, once we have a good enough load to trade, we head to our spot in the rocks where we often sit and just watch the world go by.

Our topics of conversation usually settle on the Hunger Games, but today Gale goes straight for it, considering it's the day of the reaping.

"What if one year, everyone just stopped watching?" Gale asks angrily.

"They won't, Gale," I tell him, absolutely sure of it.

"Well, what if they did? What if- what if we did?" Gale shrugged.

I shake my head. "Won't happen."

"You root for your favourites, you cry when they get killed, it's sick!" Gale rants, tearing up a piece of grass.

"Gale," I tell him, making him look at me.

He doesn't. "If no one watches, then they don't have a game, it's as simple as that."

I smile slightly and he demands. "What?"

"Nothing!" I say, but I'm chuckling now.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine, laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing!" I lie, grinning from ear to ear.

He sighs, looking down, a slight smile on his face, too. Then he changes tracks.

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

"They'd catch us," I say. "Cut out our tongues or worse. We wouldn't make it five miles."

"No, I'd get five miles," Gale says determinedly. "I'd go that way."

He points to ahead of us, where the vast woods extend further than I can see. I scoff, because the whole thing is so insane that it could work.

But all I say is. "I've got Katniss and Prim and you've got all your siblings."

"They can come too," Gale shrugs.

"Prim in the woods?" I raise my eyebrows and he chuckles.

"Maybe not."

I shake my head, looking out at the view and saying decidedly. "I'm never having kids."

I decided this long ago. This world is twisted and cruel, and I'm not inflicting it upon a child.

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

"But you do live here," I bite back.

"Yeah, but if I didn't," Gale reinforces. Then he digs in his pocket. "Oh, I forgot, here."

He hands me a small loaf of bread, still warm, and I gasp. "Oh my god! Is this real?"

"Yeah, better be," Gale grins. "Cost me a squirrel."

I tear the bread in half and bring it to my nose, smelling the smell that can only be fresh bread, and not the flat stuff we make out of our grain rations.

I hand half the bread to Gale and he grins, mimicking Effie Trinket, the woman who comes to Twelve every year to draw the names.

" 'Happy Hunger Games'," he smirks.

" 'And may the odds be ever in your favour'," I finish in a Capitol accent, high and affected, before tucking in. The bread tastes nice, and it's still warm.

As we eat, I ask Gale. "How many times is your name in today?"

"Forty two," He shrugs. "I guess the odds aren't exactly in my favour. How bout you?"

I sigh. "Twenty two."

This is another cruel way for the Capitol to hit the districts, more specifically the poor ones. Each year, your name is entered into the reaping bowl one more time than before. So once at twelve, twice at thirteen, and etcetera. But there's also an option of tesserae, which is where you enter your name more times in exchange for a year's supply of grain and oil for one person. At twelve, I had my name entered six times, once because I had to and five for each member of my family, as my father had still been alive then. After he died, we lowered my tesserae to four, and when Katniss started getting reaped she took one more so we had extra food.

Prim hasn't taken any this year. Both Katniss and I made sure of that. Rory, Gale's eldest younger brother, is also not taking any, because Gale refused his offers and made sure he didn't.

Before I know it, Gale and I are walking back into Twelve and into the Hob, the black market here. This is where we make our money, trading game with others for food and paraffin and occasionally just money.

Reaping day normally means easy trades, and today is no different. Gale and I manage to get a good load for our game, and I am silently happy for the feast we're going to provide our families for after the reaping.

Because we're all going to survive.

All of us.

On the way out, I stop at a stall belonging to an older woman called Greasy Sae. She sells nic nacs such as buttons, thread and fabrics. I like her a lot, and that's why I stop by her most of the time. I don't normally need anything from her, but she's nice.

However, today, I find something.

It's a gold pin, just in amongst a tub of buttons, with a... bird, I think, on it. I look down at it, thinking Prim would like it a lot.

"What's this?" Leaves my lips as I look at Greasy Sae.

"That's a... mockingjay," she smiles at me.

I debate it for a second, but trades were good today and I love my sister.

"How much?"

Greasy Sae shakes her head. "You keep it. It's yours."

I am not really a forgiving person, or a compassionate one. But I do feel a rush of gratitude towards her in this moment.

"Thank you," I tell her, trying to warm my tone.

She shakes her head slightly.

As Gale and I walk back to our separate houses from the Hob, I try not to let nervousness seep into my body.

Katniss and Prim'll be fine. And so will Gale, and so will Rory.

And so will y-

"I'll see you later," Gale says, stopping my thoughts as we reach the turn off. "Happy Hunger Games, Sage."

I sigh, giving him an ironic look.

"You too, Gale."