tucked away on a worn, beaten-down street of district 10, stood a little dwelling - a rustic, weary testament to time. the house, which once bubbled with stories and laughter, now remained in silence.

the small, rough-cut house mirrored that of its somewhat resilient occupants. it was far from a castle, but it stood defiant, housing eight souls within its rickety bones. the exterior paint had long since faded into a faint, washed-out grey. boards of ancient wood groaned and protested underfoot, showing signs of countless years of weary usage. and window panes sat with their faded and peeling paints, that dared to crack under the ever-changing district weather.

walking into the alces household was like taking a journey into a story where time paused to share their collective memoirs. a cramped room, which served once as a bedroom for the number of children within the family, now overcrowded with various artefacts from each of the children, belongings carefully preserved - serving as silent memorials that fill the compacted house.

frayed photographs decorated the once-white walls, whispering tales of the families cherished past. the pictures displayed missing smiles which were once treasured more than any worldly riches, framed in precious rosewood, and handled like the fragile remains of what was once a loving family of eight.

there's an old saying, that every end has a new beginning, but for maverick, he'd trade all the new beginnings in the world for one single ending that didn't involve the reaping. but, there he was, with his young, teenage frame tucked inside a button-down shirt his mother ironed the night before: with such meticulousness it could be mistaken for a choreographed dance, and a pair of crisp black pants that itched his legs, and hung loosely from his narrow waist, the fabric whispering against his neatly polished shoes.

maverick stood in the doorway of his home, surrounded by the cocoon of family love - a feeble protection against the harsh reality of the life outside their tiny little universe. the gentle grip of his mothers hand atop his shoulder caused him to wince momentarily, but he warmed up to her touch and melted into her grasp.

❝ you look handsome, moose, ❞ she spoke, her voice soft and velvety. maverick blew out a breath and turned to his mother with watery eyes. he was scared for the reaping. he didn't want to travel down the same path as his brothers and sisters: dying to the hands of blood-thirsty tributes.

the approach of churning stones caused maverick to turn and he greeted his father, who just placed his hand on his head, ruffling his hair.

the thrum of heavy machinery could be heard from miles away, giving way to an oppressive silence that cloaked the town like a heavy shroud.

the peacekeepers had arrived.

their impeccably white, heavy-duty vehicles rolled through the humble, dusty lanes of district 10. each colossal machine, bedecked with an assortment of armour and weaponry, seemed almost too gargantuan to navigate through the smaller town lanes, dwarfing the huddled homes that lined the roads.

towering at the helm of each vehicle was the flag of panem, fluttering starkly against the clear sky, which was an unequivocal reminder of the capitol's iron grip control.

their metal-greave-clad form dominated the streets and any pretense of daily life. their outfits were always impeccable, unscathed by any evidence of combat, their rifles glinting menacingly under the bright sun. it was as if a vast flock of white birds had invaded their rural district, disturbing its tranquility.

residents of the district scurried to their homes and shuttered their windows, peering through the gaps to watch the armed peacekeepers spread across the district like an infestation. the contrast of their metallic gleam and monochromatic outfits against the humble homes and barns was a painful sight.

what made this arrival all more chilling was it's timing. traditionally, a contingent of peacekeepers were already present in every district to maintain law and order. but this massive convoy was an unwelcoming reminder of the horrifying lottery the capitol subjected its people to annually.

from young, to the old, every inhabitant was either hiding of keeping a safe distance, barely keeping their trepidation in chest. the usually vibrant markets, now ominously quiet, had been converted into makeshift barracks and stations for the newly arrived peacekeepers.

one hand nervously gripped his mothers, maverick's fingers tightened over the roughy calluses formed from years of her incessant kneading and shaping. with the other, maverick smoothed his shirt, fighting the bile of anxiety welling within. despite his efforts to seem grown-up, and steady, tears threatened to fall and his eyes turned glossy.

maverick turned towards his mother and forced down a gulp - his way of battling the tears that tried so hard to release from his eyes. they walked to the town square where others from the district had already assembled.

he released his grip from his mother and slipped into a long queue, footsteps crunching dry leaves that littered the ground beneath him, the only sign that the district still clung to life. one prick on the finger, and the stinging confirmation of attendance, would ink his doom - his reluctant ticket of participation.

a lady, shrouded in her nondescript uniform, flicked a bored glance his way, casually slashing a mark beside his name, marking him as one among the lottery of unwilling sacrifices before jerking her head to dismiss the boy.

maverick slowly ambled away and took his place with the rest of the boys from his district, his fate entwined with them in the grotesque celebration of death. he tried to quell the rising sense of panic, telling himself over and over, he had the odds in his favour. yet, he couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that his life may come to an end today.

his throat ran dry at the sight of the stage looming ominously ahead. framed by two large video screens, its prominent and strategic location amplified its menacing persona. seated there were the elders of the district. peacekeepers stood, lining the barriers, eyes impassive behind the shields of their helmets, their guns propped in readiness - each a chilling silhouette against the softening morning hues. a metallic taste of anxiety gnawed at him.

the hushed silence felt stretched out, like that of an overused wire ready to snap at the smallest incitement. this, maverick thought, was a raw portrait of anxiety. his heartbeat raced like a rabbit's before a hunting hound as the much-dreaded reaping beckoned ominously in the belly of the morning. a gnawing sense of urgency clenched his heart with an icy grip.

he felt dazed - almost out of this world - his body swaying back and forth ever so slightly, his stomach churning like a bowl of batter being prepared for a cook. he jolted back to reality and fixated on the stage ahead of him after a buzzing caught his attention.

there, stood a woman. she had silver-white hair and her face wore a layer of make-up, her lips a dark hue of red, to match the powder on her eyelids. a pink dress clung to her body, and a ribbon decorated the top of her head.

her fingers tapped the microphone and she cleared her throat.

❝ welcome, welcome - happy hunger games. and, may the odds be ever in your favour, ❞

her voice echoed across the vast sea of saddened faces in the open square. a tight, knotted feeling swelled in maverick's stomach, growing as patricia smiled at the crowd.

❝ now, before we begin, we have a very special film, brought to you all the way from the capitol. ❞ she stretched out her hand, and the screens beside her, which previously presented images of the district members, altered to an image of skulls.

the voice playing on the speakers was that of president snow's, deepened and husky sounding, tough like sand-paper on an fresh graze.

❝ war. terrible war. widows, orphans, a motherless child. this was the uprising that rocked out land. thirteen districts rebelled against the country... ❞

maverick looked down at his hands. they trembled. he fingered at the seams of his shirt, an effort at distracting himself from the videos playing all around him, and away from the solemn expressions that everyone wore upon their face.

❝ ...that fed them, loved them, protected them. brother turned on brother until nothing remained. and then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. 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, ❞

the sound of a sobbing child caused a momentary bubble of commotion, but the whispered hush and hum of those comforting the upset boy were once again drowned out by the audio.

❝ 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 honour, 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... ❞

the video cut off and the screens flashed from white to black, and attention was directed back towards cordelia as she stood eagerly: readying to call out to the crowd once again.

❝ now, the time has come to select one courageous young man, and woman, for the honour of representing district 10 in the 50th annual hunger games ❞

she wore a smile across her face, one that stretched ear to ear, and her eyes glittered under the shine of the sunlight above her.

❝ as always, ladies first... ❞ cordelia reached her hand into a large glass bowl filled with small, folded slips of paper, each bearing a name. she fished her hand around, twirling her fingers over the slips, before plucking one and holding it in the air in front of her face. the smile in which she wore so proudly had since eased up, and faded.

❝ and, the lucky lady is... ❞ she dragged out the suspense, her painted lips turning upward into a chilling smile once again, as she announced: ❝ sophia waters! ❞

maverick felt a gnawing apprehension dig into his stomach, like a worm writhing within him. it grew fiercer when the name of the young female rang out, which sent ripples of shock and grief throughout the assembly.

sophia stood frozen in place, a wraith against the horde, a gasping symbol of the shock. maverick saw the exact moment her heart broke - she sank to her knees, defeated and torn. and, what was worse, was the poor girl lacked hearing, meaning she was, as his mother would describe: cannon fodder.

a sharp and potent word split the sullen quiet.

❝ i volunteer! ❞ a hand rose from the crowd, and cordelia's lips parted with a gasp. ❝ what's this? we have a volunteer?! ❞

the young girls face flashed white, shocked at the fact that a random courageous, or possibly foolish act from another of her district meant she wouldn't serve time in the arena to die.

cordelia threw out her hand, ushering the volunteer to parade up the stairs and join her on the stage, the smile on her face still warm, yet slightly welcoming.

❝ come now dear. quickly, quickly, ❞

with the broadcast upon the screens now showing the body of the volunteer, heads turned, and whispers soon made it across the crowd. word of the volunteer being a past victor made its rounds, and eventually hit maverick's ears.

❝ and what is your name, dear? ❞ cordelia spoke into the mic with her body partially turned to the female who stood beside her. ❝ eris reyes... ❞ she mumbled, looking out into the crowd: her mind replaying every second of her first reaping years ago and the sadness that painted the faces of those in her district - a familiar expression that a lot of those occupying the crowd still wore.

❝ let's have a big hand for our brave volunteer eris reyes! ❞

cordelia stood there, her hands gently colliding as she clapped, eyes traversing the ocean of sunken, expressionless faces. there was a long, silent pause.

❝ and now, for the boys! ❞ her shoes clacked with each step she took as cordelia travelled to the right bowl, stuck her hand in, and plucked up a piece of paper.

mavericks blood pounded against his temples as he watched as the escort unfurled the slip of paper. the sound of his heart seemed to amplify, and his world grew still and quiet as the syllables of his name rang through the silent crowd.

❝ maverick alces! ❞

the silence in the back mavericks mind was deafening. his breath hitched, and it took him a few moments to register that was his name that had been called. he stood frigid, rooted on the spot, before being forcefully nudged forward by a peacekeeper beside him.

his strides were slightly mechanical as he ascended up the stairs, each step sending shockwaves of disbelief through his system. and he forced his face to stay calm, his eyes flickering over the crowd one last time. maverick scanned the faces of his district, lingering over his mothers tear riddled face.

cordelia placed her hands on both of the tributes shoulders and shifted on her heels to usher them into the large wooden doors that swung upon behind them.

❝ you'll both get given some time to bid your farewells to your loved ones. treasure the moment for as long as you can, ❞