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𝘈𝘬𝘴ó𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘤𝘩í𝘴𝘢 - 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘖𝘧 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

ˋ°•*⁀➷

The air smelled of hay and manure, thick and familiar, as Thalia crouched in the dirt beside the hog pen. The sun was already climbing, its heat pressing against her back, but she barely noticed. 

Her hands were steady as she worked, scooping feed into the trough and keeping an eye on the pigs that nudged each other for a better spot. A Capitol officer stood nearby, clipboard in hand, making notes about their weight and condition. He didn't look at her. He never did.

Thalia straightened, brushing her palms on the rough fabric of her trousers. She turned toward the barn, where the rest of the workers, mostly kids her age, were finishing their chores. Some of them whispered to each other as she passed, their eyes lingering on her painted face.

"Looks like the freak's at it again," Marla's voice cut through the low chatter, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Thalia ignored her, even as the laughter that followed felt like little needles against her skin. She tightened her grip on the bucket in her hand and kept walking. Her father had taught her that silence was sometimes the strongest answer. Besides, there was work to do. There was always work to do.

It was the same thing every day: wake up, go to the fields, feed the animals, often slaughter if needed, and finally, go home.

Part of that routine was for Thalia to endure the teasing from Marla and her sheep. It had been the same thing for years. Marla always found something to pick at—the paint on Thalia's face, her quietness, her worn boots, but today, it stung a little more. 

Maybe it was because of The Reaping. It was as if the tension in the air gave Marla an extra edge, her taunts sharper than usual.

Thalia never rose to the bait. The paint mattered too much. Her father had told her once, just before he died, about their family history, about the strength their people carried long before the Capitol's rule. 

It was a strength the Capitol would never understand. He had worn this paint himself when he was younger, and now it was hers to carry. She wore it for him, for herself, and for everything they had lost.

Marla could laugh all she wanted.

She headed to the slaughter pen, where another peacekeeper gestured toward a pig that had been marked for culling. It was a big one, well-fed and ready for the butcher.

Thalia grabbed the knife from the hook on the wall. Her fingers closed around the handle, the weight familiar. She'd done this so many times before that it no longer made her stomach churn. Children in District 10 were expected to help wherever they could, and slaughtering livestock was as normal as breathing. Survival demanded it. The Capitol demanded it.

Before she made the first cut, she paused. Closing her eyes, she muttered a quiet prayer in her father's tongue. The words were old and soft, like a song she barely remembered but couldn't forget. 

Her father had taught her the prayer when she was little, back when he was still alive, back when the world had felt a little kinder. It was for the animal's spirit, a small gesture of respect for the life she was about to take.

When the prayer ended, she opened her eyes and knelt beside the pig. Her hands were steady as she worked, swift and efficient. The others gave her space. Even Marla wouldn't come near during this part of the day. They might have mocked her for her paint and her quiet ways, but when it came to this, Thalia knew what she was doing.

She didn't flinch. She didn't cry. This was her job, just another part of life in District 10. Pigs, cows, sheep - it didn't matter. Her hands had been stained with blood since she was old enough to hold a knife. 

Once, she had overheard a traveler passing through the district, whispering rumors about other parts of Panem. In most districts, children didn't have to work the way they did in 10. 

They went to school, learning numbers and science, while their families worked in factories. Thalia couldn't wrap her mind around it. How did they handle the Capitol's demands if they didn't pull every pair of hands they had into the effort?

Here, it wasn't a choice. District 10 had quotas to meet. Livestock had to be fed, raised, and slaughtered. Every pound of meat was counted, weighed, and shipped off to fill the Capitol's insatiable hunger. And the Capitol never seemed to get enough.

Thalia watched the blood soak into the dirt as she hauled the carcass onto the hooks, her muscles burning from the weight. The work was brutal, but it was the only life she had ever known. 

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to live in one of those other districts, where the hardest thing a child had to do was memorize words in a book. But that wasn't her reality. In District 10, survival came with a knife in hand and blood on the ground.

She wiped her blade clean and stood, her face calm but her chest heavy. Another piece of meat to send to the Capitol's feasts, while her family and neighbors scraped by on scraps. It wasn't fair, but fairness didn't exist here. 

There was only survival. And she was used to that.

ˋ°•*⁀➷

Thalia walked home as the sky dimmed, the soft glow of evening casting long shadows. She knew it had been time to go home once the streets were practically silent, lights off in every house as they prepared for the morning.

She could see the peacekeepers preparing the square, putting up the large screens, the beaming lights. But, she made sure to keep her head down, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself, it was nearing curfew.

The fear was palpable and felt through the entire district. Most parents praying that it wouldn't be their child called out. It was a quiet kind of terror, one that hung heavy in the air like a thick fog. 

The reaping was never easy to stomach, but this year, there was something even more suffocating about it. Maybe it was the looming uncertainty, or the fact that this was Finnian's first reaping. At 12, he was eligible, and that changed everything.

She pushed open the door to their small home, the familiar creak of the hinges comforting in its normalcy. But the moment she stepped inside, the silence hit her. 

Their mother's door was already shut tight, the soft creak of the hinges muffled by the stillness. Thalia knew it was because her mother was crying again. She did it every night. She hadn't been the same since their father died, and Thalia couldn't blame her.

Losing him had shattered their family, but Thalia didn't know how her mother managed to keep going. She pretended to be fine every day, for Finnian, for Thalia, but Thalia could see the exhaustion in her mother's eyes. It was a strength Thalia didn't know if she would ever have.

Elara Graye was a woman who deserved a lot more praise than she was given.

Thalia moved to the small kitchen, where there was only a bit of dinner left. The food was sparse, but she ate it quietly, trying not to make a sound. The hunger was always there, gnawing at her insides. But it wasn't hunger she was worried about right now. It was the Reaping.

She ate quickly, barely tasting it, before slipping into Finnian's room. The soft sound of his breathing filled the space, but as she got closer, she could hear the faint sniffles. He was crying.

The Reaping had come too close, too soon. He was scared, even though his odds were slim, he'd never had to take Tesserae. Thalia hadn't allowed it, she could never let him be part of the twisted games, she instead took it every time they were desperate. 

His club foot kept him from being the kind of child the Capitol saw as valuable. He would merely be a spectacle for their entertainment, she couldn't allow it.

Still, it was his first reaping, and at 12 years old, the fear was a heavy weight on his small shoulders.

Thalia sat beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. She could feel the dampness of his tears on her fingertips, but she didn't pull away. She could never pull away when he needed her.

"I'm scared, Tallie," the young boy murmured.

"We'll be fine," she whispered, her voice soft but steady. "You're strong, Finn. You always have been. Remember what Dad used to say?"

Finnian sniffled, his teary eyes meeting hers. "What did he say?"

Thalia took a deep breath, her smile faint but warm. "He'd say, 'We carry the spirit of our ancestors. Their strength runs through our blood. They stood tall like the mountains, unshaken by storms, and they walked with the courage of the wolf. Nothing the Capitol does can ever take that from us.'"

She touched his chin lightly, her eyes filled with a quiet determination. "That strength is in you, too. Don't forget that."

Their life had been hard, but Finnian made it even harder sometimes. His disability wasn't something people understood, and it made everything a little more difficult for him. He stumbled more than most, and his club foot had made him an easy target for children in the district.

It was hard. She hated the way he was treated, hated seeing him so vulnerable. He didn't have much, but he clung to his stupid mutt like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. The dog was a scrappy little thing, with fur that was far too long and a bark that was louder than it needed to be. 

Thalia hated it. It was one more mouth to feed, one more thing to worry about when food was so scarce. She'd even thought about killing it when he had brought it home, thinking they could save the meat for themselves, but Finnian loved it more than anything. 

So she had gritted her teeth and helped him train the dog, even though every time it chewed on the furniture or scratched at the door, she wanted to scream.

The dog's name was Rio. Thalia couldn't understand why Finnian even named the thing. But it didn't matter. It was his dog, and it made him happy. And in this world, when happiness felt so rare, it was all she could give him. 

It helped all the more that the stupid mutt was also handy at times, often bringing dead animals to their doorstep. It was probably the only reason Thalia hadn't made him into a stew yet.

"I'll make sure you're okay, Finn," she whispered, running a hand through his messy hair.

She stayed with him for a while longer, just until he fell asleep, the dog curled up next to him. But as Thalia looked out the window, she knew the morning would come too soon. And with it, the reaping.

ˋ°•*⁀➷

Thalia hadn't expected to fall asleep. For the last three years, sleep had never come on this day. How could anyone sleep, knowing there was a chance they could be chosen for the Games?

You couldn't. Even if you weren't chosen, the Games were a spectacle everyone had to watch. Children, some as young as twelve, forced to kill or be killed. It was sickening. Being chosen or not, it was still the most awful thing to experience.

Thalia couldn't understand why the Games still existed. She knew it was a punishment for the rebellion, but that had been 73 years ago. Most of the people involved were long dead. It didn't seem fair.

But Thalia knew better than to question the Capitol. They were too powerful, too dangerous. It was easier to keep your head down and pretend to follow their rules. She'd witnessed enough public whippings to know that speaking your thoughts was a bad idea.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The weight of the day hung heavy on her chest. The fear was suffocating. She wanted to think about something else, anything else, but her mind wouldn't let her.

The thought of Finnian being called terrified her. He was young, too young for the Games. He was always so careful, always so kind, and he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be taken from her.

Thalia closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. The Capitol's cruelty was too much to ignore. She thought about her father and the stories he used to tell her. About strength, about survival. Maybe they could survive the Games too, if it came to that. 

But the fear still gnawed at her, and she couldn't push it away. But she had to be strong for Finnian. He couldn't see her afraid. She'd promised herself that, promised him that. No matter what, she would protect him.

The sun hadn't even fully risen yet when Thalia heard her mother's soft steps in the hall. It was time. It was finally time for the Reaping.

She went straight to the small tub in the corner of their house. The water was cold, but she didn't mind. She scrubbed her face and hands, cleaning off the dust from the day before. Trying her very hardest to get the dirt out from under her nails.

The whole district was expected to look neat and clean for the reaping, like some sort of show for the Capitol. 

It didn't make sense to Thalia. They were starving, barely scraping by, and yet the Capitol expected them to dress up, look presentable, and act as if everything was fine. They wanted smiles, they wanted cheer, but Thalia knew it was all a lie.

She didn't mind the washing, though. It gave her a few moments of peace, away from the weight of the day ahead. Afterward, she put on her mother's old dress. 

It was simple, worn, but it was the one she had worn for the past three reapings. Plus, it was the only dress she had. It was a part of the routine, something that kept them connected to the past, even if it didn't change the fear of what was to come.

Once she was dressed, she dipped her fingers into the paint. The familiar scent of it calmed her, even if just a little. It wasn't much, just a few simple lines, but it felt important. It made her feel close to her father, even though he was gone.

As she painted her face, Thalia couldn't help but think about how strange it was. 

Here they were, struggling, trying to survive, and the Capitol demanded that they look perfect for a day that meant the loss of more lives. It didn't make sense, but there was no changing it. This was their reality.

When Finnian appeared in the doorway, looking more nervous than ever, Thalia didn't let her own fear show. She knelt in front of him, marking his chin with the paint, the same way their father used to. 

It was her way of reminding him that they were strong, even when everything around them seemed designed to break them.

They sat together in silence for a moment, the air thick with the unspoken weight of the day. Their mother appeared at the door then, looking tired, as she always did on this day. She wore the same blank expression, trying to mask the fear that Thalia knew was there.

"Breakfast's ready," their mother said, her voice quiet, almost hollow. She placed a few scraps of food on the table, there was never much, but they made do.

Her mother barely spoke during breakfast, the tension in the room thick. Thalia could see it in her eyes, that quiet, gnawing terror. She was trying to be strong, but Thalia knew. The "what ifs" hung in the air, unspoken but always present. 

What if it was one of them? What if it was Finnian? The fear was the same every year, every reaping. And even though they had always been lucky so far, that fear never went away.

Thalia pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Finnian. She couldn't let him see her fear. Not today. Today, she was his protector. And she would make sure he stayed safe, no matter what.

After breakfast, they made their way to the square, each step feeling heavier than the last. Thalia took one last look at her mother before they left. Her mother's face was a mask, but Thalia knew the truth. Her heart clenched as she squeezed Finnian's hand. Today, they would face whatever came, together.

They walked through the district, hand in hand, following the mass amount of children who were also headed towards the square. It was silent apart from the sounds of shoes colliding with the ground. What was there to say anyway?

The square grew bigger as they neared it. The big, tall stage stood ahead, where the Capitol officials would watch and decide. The air was thick, heavy with fear. Children of every age stood together, their eyes wide, glancing around at each other but never speaking.

They reached the line to get their fingers pricked. Finnian tensed beside her. Thalia squeezed his hand again, her grip firm, to show him he wasn't alone. She hated this part. She hated how they had to prove they were part of the system, like cattle being marked for slaughter.

One by one, children stepped up to the table. Thalia's heart pounded in her chest as their turn came. Finnian went first. The Capitol official's sharp needle pricked his finger, a drop of blood collected, and the boy quickly pulled his hand away, his face tight with discomfort.

"Next," the official said in a cold, emotionless voice.

Thalia stepped forward. The needle pricked her finger. The pain was sharp but brief. She pulled her hand back, trying not to flinch.

Once done, they were split up. Boys on one side, girls on the other. Thalia didn't let go of Finnian's hand until the last moment, knowing it would be the last time she'd hold him so close until it was over.

Quickly, before the peacekeepers could pull them apart, she pulled her brother into a tight embrace. "I'll find you after, okay?" She whispered, reaching behind him and tucking his shirt into his pants. 

With wide eyes, the boy nodded, but before he could respond, peacekeepers were quick to separate them. As the girl was shoved forward, she tried her very hardest to keep her eyes trained on her brother as he joint the crowd of boys, but she was quick to lose sight of him.

He will be okay. He will be okay. He will be okay.

Thalia took her place among the other girls her age, and luckily for her, that meant standing directly next to Marla. But, the girl didn't have any snarky comments today, she was terrified, just like everyone else.

Her eyes wandered to the stage, seeing how the people deemed worthy took their seats, preparing for what was to come. But, one seat was empty, as always. Thalia didn't understand why they still bothered, the victor of the 53rd games hadn't shown up in years.

No one barely saw him in District 10 anyway, he stayed in the Victor's Village, drinking himself away. The people didn't like him, even though he was their only victor. A mean drunk, that's what they called him. But, Thalia just pitied him. The games ruined people.

Thalia shook her head, pushing away the thoughts. She had to focus. Today wasn't about him. Today was about surviving. For Finnian. For her family.

The square grew completely still, the silence hanging thick in the air like a heavy fog. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something. The only sound that broke through was the sharp clicking of heels echoing across the stage.

Thalia's gaze lifted to the front, her eyes narrowing against the glare of the sun as Lucian Flair appeared on the stage. The district 10 escort was dressed in a wildly extravagant, glittering gown, even more flamboyant than last year. 

It shimmered in every color of the rainbow, a cascade of sparkling fabric that left no doubt in anyone's mind about where his loyalties lay. He moved with exaggerated grace, each step more dramatic than the last, drawing the eyes of every citizen in the square.

He reached the microphone, his enormous smile never faltering. His eyes scanned the crowd, meeting no one in particular, as if to remind them of his superiority. The anticipation was thick in the air, and Thalia couldn't help but feel a pang of disgust as she looked at him, standing there with that gleam in his eye.

How could he be so happy? She could never understand it.

He tapped the microphone a few times, his voice ringing out in a cheerful tone.

"Welcome! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Thalia's skin crawled at the words, but she forced herself to stand still, her hands clenched at her sides. The odds? The odds were never in anyone's favor. Not here. Not for them. Not for anyone in the districts.

Lucian's smile never wavered as he looked down at the sea of nervous faces. Thalia didn't even want to know what he thought of the people in front of him. He probably didn't care.

Her mind kept racing back to Finnian, where was he now? She could barely see him among the group of boys, her heart pounding as she tried to catch a glimpse of his familiar face. She tried to stay calm, though every inch of her screamed to run to him.

She wanted to pull him back to her, but she had to stay where she was. She had to stay strong for him, just like she promised.

The games were coming. And no matter how much she hated it, she had to get through it all—just like everyone else.

Lucian's joyful voice rang out again, Thalia hated the sound of it. The happiness didn't fit what was about to happen, it didn't fit the tension that filled the air. How could he smile down at shaking children like this was all just fun?

"Now, before we begin, we have a special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" He spoke, raising his hand to the screen as the same film that was shown every year began.

"War. Terrible war. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. 13 districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained." 

"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. When 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."

As the film played, Thalia forced herself to watch, even though she had seen it every year since she was old enough to stand in the square. The Capitol's voice boomed from the speakers, smooth and polished, meant to stir emotions, but all Thalia felt was cold.

The scenes of destruction filled the screen: buildings collapsing, people running, screaming, falling. Then came the images of the Capitol soldiers, pristine and untouchable, marching through the rubble with weapons raised. It was a spectacle of power, a stark reminder of what would happen to anyone who dared to rise against them again.

The Capitol's message was clear: Look what happens if you rebel. Your children dying? That is all your own fault.

The film ended with the Capitol's emblem shining brightly on the screen, the anthem swelling triumphantly as if it were something to celebrate. Thalia glanced around. No one moved. No one clapped. They never did. But it didn't matter. The Capitol didn't need their approval, only their fear.

Lucian Flair stepped forward, dabbing at the corner of his eyes with a glittering handkerchief. His face was lit with emotion, his painted lips trembling with what could only be described as theatrical awe.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice thick with sentiment. "Just beautiful. What a reminder of how far we've come. How lucky we are to live in such a prosperous time."

Thalia wanted to scoff, but she didn't dare. Lucky? What was lucky about this? Living under the Capitol's thumb, being paraded around like cattle every year to feed their sadistic hunger for control? There was nothing lucky about this life.

Lucian turned back to the crowd, spreading his arms wide, his smile returning. "And now, my dear citizens of District 10, the time has come! Let us select our brave tributes for this year's Hunger Games!"

The square seemed to grow even quieter, if that were possible. Thalia's hands clenched into fists at her sides as her heart raced. This was it. The moment everyone dreaded. 

Lucian Flair paused dramatically, his glittering eyes scanning the silent crowd. He leaned toward the microphone, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"Now, my darlings, this year we have a little surprise!" He announced, his voice dripping with excitement. "It has been decided that there will be a switch-up! How exciting! The boys will be called first!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd. This was different, and different was terrifying. Thalia's stomach dropped as her eyes darted toward the group of boys, searching desperately for Finnian's face. She caught a glimpse of him near the front, his shoulders hunched and his face pale.

Lucian sauntered toward the large glass bowl on the boys' side, the folds of his extravagant dress swishing with each step. "Let's not keep you waiting, hmm?" he said, plunging his hand into the bowl with dramatic flair, swirling the slips around as if savoring the tension.

Thalia's heart pounded in her chest. 

Please, not him. Please, not him.

Finally, Lucian's hand emerged, holding a single slip of paper. He unfolded it slowly, his movements exaggerated, building the unbearable suspense. He approached the microphone, holding the paper up as if it were a sacred artifact.

Thalia's nails were digging into her palms, enough to draw blood. She prayed to hear any other name, anyone else other than her little brother.

Please. Please. Please.

"Finnian Graye!"

No. No, no, no.

ˋ°•*⁀➷

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Ahhh! Thank you for reading the very first chapter of the kindling!!! <3333

Also, a lot more about the tribal background of the Graye family will be spoken about, so I apologize if I didn't really make it make sense lmao.

Also, a huge thank you to all of my amazing mutuals who helped me create this book!! I love you all so so much <3 

special mention to my besties for all the amazing ideas ilysm <3 Woofus/ cheese/ marty/ chuck will forever be Rio's actual names @merakifawn @siredskies @espinosaslvr  @ginaswworld