Flora Cottonweed's P.O.V.

I pluck a fresh stalk of wheat from the field and crumple it in my hand. The seeds filter through my fingers and land in the soft dirt, by my feet.

I take in a deep breath. What if this is the last day I'm in District Nine? The last day I will see my friends. The last day I will watch the wind brush through the grain fields.

I shake my head. I always feel like this every year on this day.

"Flora, we should get going," a voice from beside me suddenly says, nearly making me jump. I forgot she was there.

"Ok, let's go, Bella," I say before jumping from the fence I was perched on.

Unfortunately, we arrive a little bit late. The mayor is just finishing his speech and has already introduced our escort onto the stage by the time we get to our section.

"Our first tribute is... Bella Rosewood!"

Bella immediately turns to me, grabbing my hand as I try to raise it and volunteer for her.

"Bella, what are you doing?" I ask her.

"Please don't volunteer. Just please don't," she says before she releases my arm and pushes her way through the crowd, to the stage.

"I'm fifteen," she says blankly.

"Wonderful, and now for our last female..." the escort pauses for dramatic effect, "Flora Cottonweed!"

I involuntarily walk to the stage and state that I'm also fifteen into the mic. "How did this happen?" was the sentence repeating itself in my head.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor, District Nine! This concludes our Reapings."