Before Hope could start reading suddenly a door that had been messed in with a wall opened and in came a startled Rafael. 

"Raf?" Hope asked, surprised. 

"Hope?!" He asked, just as shocked. 

"Oh my God." She said, smiling as she got up and quickly walked over to hug him. He was the first person (other than Landon and Alaric) that ever got her to trust them after everything that had happened in her life. He was what most would call "the one who got away" but she called him her best friend. Other than Lizzie of course. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked as they pulled away. 

"Me? What are you doing here? When you didn't show up in the room I thought that whoever brought us here didn't want you here." Hope said, confused. 

"What are you talking about? Hope, haven't you seen outside of the room?" He asked, frowning. 

"What are you talking about?" She asked, pushing past him and out the door, everyone else following, only for her gasp in shock, now knowing where they were. "We're in the Prison World." She turned to Rafael who nodded. 

"The what?" Johanna Mason asked, confused. 

"It's a long story, I'll tell you all about it later. But, um, guys this is Rafael. We were... friends, when I was younger. About 400 years younger to be exact." She said and Rafael snorted. 

"If by "friends" you mean, I was in love with you, and you loved my brother, then killed said brother to save the world, all the while we stayed pretty close... Yeah, sure, friends." He said before both of them gave a small laugh and a couple of soft smiles. 

It was hard for both of them when Hope had first killed Landon. She shut off her humanity and Rafael went on a werewolf sized rampage before breaking down and crying in his mother's arms. They both knew it was for the best, but that didn't make it any easier. After all, he told her to do it. And she did. 

"You- What?" Everyone asked, baffled. 

"It's a really long story." Hope sighed, shaking her head. "One I don't like talking about to be honest. One of the worst moments of my life, so please forgive me if I'm not very eager in speaking about it." She told them all before something registered in her head and she turned to Rafael. "Why are you in New Orleans? This is my childhood home, why are you- why are we, here of all places?" She questioned. 

"I have no idea on why you're here." He told her honestly. "But I'm here because I was visiting your family with the others before they all disappeared about twenty minutes ago and I came looking for you all. And I found you." 

"Yeah you did." Finnick said, moving past him and looking around the Abattoir, or Compound as they call it most of the time. "You grew up here, Hope?" 

"Yeah." She nodded. 

"So you have money." Gale said, eyeing her as if she just said she wanted to eat his family and pick her teeth with their bones. 

"Had. I had money." She corrected. "Then the world ended. The stock market ended, banks closed and then opened with Capotel money, which did transfer my money, but then stopped working after I left the Capotel to start joining in on the games." She told him, shrugging to herself. 

"Let me guess, long story?" Finnick asked, amused. 

"You know me so well." She said with a bitchy smile on her face before going over to the sitting part of the Compound, as the others followed, and they all found seats as Hope quickly explained everything to Rafael before she started reading. 

When I wake up, the right side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with her mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping. 

I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. My 40 year old daughter, Poppy, next to her 12 year old daughter, Prim, who was curled up on her side, cocooned in her mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my daughter looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My daughter was very beautiful once, too. Before the world brought her down, which it does for many in our lives. 

Even though she had the choice to be a vampire as I and the rest of our family are, due to my vampire blood, which comes from my own father, being her blood, but she chose to remain human, which I understood. After all being immortal just about ruined my life, I wouldn't wish it on her as it was forced on me. 

"Wait, what?" Those who didn't know asked, baffled, and Hope grimaced. 

"Oh yeah, I never told most of you, did I?" She asked, grimacing. 

"What's there to tell?" Gale asked, confused. 

After a moment of looking at those in the group who had no idea, Hope sighed. 

"When we break for food, if this doesn't tell the story, I will." Hope said, sighing, and everyone could see that she didn't really want to talk about it, so they let it slide. 

"You know, you don't have to tell them, Hope." Finnick told her and she sighed. 

"But I do." She told him and it became his turn to sigh. "They need to know everything, Finnick. Especially, if what I think is going to happen is about to happen." 

"Wait, he knows and I don't?" Gale asked, frowning deeper. 

"All the Victors know. And so do the important people in the capitol." She told him, shrugging. 

"You trust them enough to tell them, but not me? I thought you trusted me." He said and she narrowed her eyes. 

"I trust no one except for those with my blood, Haymitch- barely, Cinna, and those from my past that were already here in this place, but we all went to war and went through hell together, and that creates more bonds than any of you will probably ever understand, and I hope you don't. And Peeta, but he did save my family's lives, so I had to give him a little trust at the start." She said, adding a small shrug at the end. 

"And now?" Gale asked and she looked at Peeta before shrugging. 

"If I didn't trust him I'd have ripped his head off in the arena instead of letting him live." She said honestly. "Or at the very least made his death look like an accident. When Cato went over the side I'd have made it so Peeta did too instead of saving him." 

"She's right, she really would have." Lizzie said in agreement, as many people in the room nodded along. "Also; What?" 

"Long story." Hope said, holding up the book, getting a nod in return. 

Sitting at Prim's knees, guarding her, is the world's ugliest cat. 

"He is not!" Prim said, a small pout on her face. 

"Yes he is." Katniss said back to her younger sister, and Hope quickly continued to read before there could be another word spoken. 

Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. He hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. 

"You what?!" Prim yelled, having had no idea about that, and Hope just grimaced slightly before continuing to read. 

Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. 

"I'd have tried killing the thing too!" Rebekah said, a grimace on her face as a lot of people nodded in agreement. 

The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My daughter got rid of the vermin and he's a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. 

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. 

I wake up Katniss as I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet, and only being held together by magic spells. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag, and toss Katniss hers. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim's gift to Katniss and me on reaping day. I hand the cheese to Katniss who puts it carefully in her pocket as we slip outside. 

Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many who have long since stopped trying to scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in. If you can. 

"No one ever can though." Katniss said sadly with a sigh. 

Our house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow. Separating the Meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods —packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears — that used to threaten our streets. But since we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is alive. Right now, it's silent as a stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, I flatten out on my belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years, Katniss following quickly behind. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home we almost always enter the woods here. 

"What the hell is going on in the outside world, Hope?" Rafael asked her, "What happened?" Hope didn't look at anyone, which in it's self was an answer for them all. 

"You didn't." Lizzie said, frowning. 

"Of course I did, Lizzie. You know my only fear is being alone. And after all of you went into here to be safe from what was going on in the world, leaving me outside of it so that I could wait till everything calmed down so I could one day let you all out and we could go back like nothing ever happened... It made me feel worse than I had ever felt in my life. After my parents died, and the rest of my family abandoned me, after Landon died and Raf was sent here and every other crappy thing that's happened in my life, I never thought I could feel worse. I honestly thought the worst was behind me, but I was proven wrong when you all went into the prison world. So I did it. For 200 or so years my humanity was turned off. Until the first death in the games. Seeing it happen, it snapped something awake in my brain, and... Well, here we are." She said, shrugging. 

"Oh, Hope, no..." Hayley said sadly. 

"It happened, I moved past it. I can assume you'll do the same." Hope said before she quickly started reading again. 

As soon as I'm in the trees, I retrieve the bows and sheaths of arrows from a hollow log, handing Katniss hers. Electrified or not, the fence has been successful at keeping the flesh eaters out of District 12. Inside the woods they roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow. But there's also food if you know how to find it. My family knew and my father taught me some before he killed himself to save my life, his body turning to dust in the aftermath of the death. There was nothing even to bury until three years later when my aunt Freya had finally been able to gather all of his ashes, which I spread over the lake at my old school. Well most of them, the rest are fusioned into my necklaces. I was fifteen then. Nearly 400 years later, I still wake up screaming for him to let me die instead. 

Klaus sighed, he never wanted that for her. 

"What?" Everyone who didn't understand, questioned, confused. Everyone else who did understand what she meant gave her a sad look, no one wanted to be in her place. 

And five years ago my grandchildren lost their father as well, for my daughter it was her husband, he blew up in a mine explosion. Now every time I'm waking up in the night due to my nightmares, one, or both of them, are usually waking up soon after. 

Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture out with just a knife. Our bows are a rarity, crafted by my daughter's husband, Katniss's father along with a few others that we keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. My son-in-law could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they're among our best customers. But the idea that someone might be arming the Seam would never have been allowed. 

"The horror." Finnick said, smiling and Hope snorted in amusement. 

In the fall, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises. "District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter. Then I glance at Katniss who are quickly over our shoulders. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you. "There's no one here, I'd hear them, Kat." 

"Right. Sometimes I forget about that." She told him, and I gave a small sigh. 

"Well, one day you'll remember due to having your own hearing." 

"And unlike Prim, I can't wait." Katniss told me, I nodded, knowing that Prim wouldn't be able to handle what was needed to happen to be able to uncover the hearing I gained years ago. She was too delicate. And while that brought a good heart and a good person, it made for a bad werewolf. So, much like her mother, she settled to using her magic and vampire blood for healing people that she could, and went on unbothered with the rest that came with our bloodline. Something I'm grateful for to be honest. But Katniss is different. Where Poppy took after her father, and Prim after her mother, Katniss took after me and my family. Big heart, but willing to do whatever it took to survive and make sure those we love do as well. 

Katniss nodded in agreement, knowing that was very true. 

"I'm not delicate." Prim said, frowning. 

"Prim, you are." Hope said as softly as she could. 

When I first came back to district 12 after years away, I scared my daughter to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far off city called the Capitol. Eventually I stopped, knowing this would only lead us to more trouble. So I started  to hold my tongue and went back to turning my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts, the same mask I created and have been using since I was seven years old. Do my work quietly in school- which I've been forced to go back to due to my illusion spells making me seem younger than I really am since I stopped aging at 18 I've had to use spells to look younger to blind in with my surroundings through the years. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money these days. Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be? 

"I would never." Prim told her and Hope sighed. 

"That's not the point. Sometimes I forget how old I really am, like most vampires, so I say stuff bluntly like a normal 18 year old girl would. When I should know better. And I try to." Hope told her granddaughter who sighed, but nodded. 

In the woods waits the only other person (other than Katniss) with whom I can be myself. Well, the human version at least. Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as Katniss and I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods. 

"She does with me." Prim told the older boy who nodded slightly at her. 

"And with us." Josie said, and the Super Squad all raised their hands in agreement. 

"Hey, Hope, Catnip," says Gale as I snickered at the nickname. Her real name is Katniss, but when she first told him, the young girl had barely whispered it. So he thought she'd said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following her around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for her. I finally had to kill the lynx because he was scared of the game. I almost regretted it because he wasn't in bad company. But I got a decent price for his pelt. 

"Look what I shot," Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and we laugh. It's real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves we make from our grain rations. Katniss takes it in her hands, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust to her nose, inhaling the fragrance. Fine bread like this is for special occasions. 

Katniss blushed as everyone turned to give her amused looks. 

"Don't worry, Katniss. We're in a prison world with food from my time. We'll get you your bread." Hope said and a few people snickered as Katniss threw her pillow at Hope, and just as it reached the middle of the group, Hope held up a finger, and it stopped in the middle of the room, before she moved her finger downwards and it dropped to the floor. 

"Woah." Those who had never seen magic before said, surprised and intrigued. 

"Mm, still warm," She says. He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for it. 

"What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I say, not even bothering to roll my eyes. 

"No thanks to me." Hope muttered, and no one but those with superhearing and Peeta (due to him being next to her) head her, wondering what that meant. 

"Prim left us a cheese." Katniss said as she pulled it out. 

His expression brightens at the treat. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the leaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" He plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds —" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

I catch it in my mouth and break the delicate skin with my teeth. The sweet tartness explodes across my tongue. "—be ever in your favor!" I finish with equal verve. 

"Sorry, Effie." Hope told the woman who looked hurt for a second before she sighed and shook her head, pushing it away. "You are an amazing woman, who I am happy to know. Now that I know you better." That seemed to so the trick as Effie perked up a bit. 

"And I, you." The woman said back and Hope gave her a smile and a small laugh. 

Gale just glared, frowning in confusion about how she could like anyone from the capitol. Johanna as well. 

We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared out of your wits. Besides, the Capitol accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny in it. 

And it's not that I'm scared for me, it's that I'm scared for my granddaughters, Katniss and Prim, fear for them being chosen in the games that I spent the past 74 years trying to protect people from, even if it didn't always work out. 

"It did for me, and I'm thankful for that." Finnick told her and she nodded. 

"And me." Haymitch told her and she sighed, but nodded. "I might not like you that much, but I do owe you my life." 

"Oh, so that's why you sobered up for those five minutes." Hope said as if it just hit her. 

"Funny. And speaking of which, where's the liquor?" Haymitch asked her. 

"Unless it's all been drank, that room right there. There's a bar inside." Hope said, pointing at the third door on the right, on the second floor. 

"Good to know." Haymitch said, getting up to go get it. 

"Let me, I'll be faster." Hope said with a sigh, getting up and going over to directly under it. 

"What are you doing?" Johanna asked her, unamused. Hope just gave her a wink before taking off in a run before flipping up and landing over the rail in a roll before getting up onto her feet. 

"Woah!" "What the hell?!" She heard from below. 

"I haven't done something like that in a long time." She said, letting out a breathy laugh before walking into the bar and grabbing a bottle of bourbon and locking the cabinet with magic before going back out, taking the stairs down this time. "I've locked it magically. This is the only bottle you're getting for today. Make it last." 

"You're no fun." Haymitch told her. 

"Oh, I am plenty of fun. I just don't want you drinking this house dry. You're in a world of nothing but vampires now. And the only thing between their teeth and your jugular is a drink of their own. I'm being practical. Practical keeps you alive." 

"And rational gets you dead." He finished with a sigh, taking the bottle she held out for him. "What is this? It's different than what we've got back home." 

"It's bourbon. The fancy rich type." Hope said, shrugging. 

"Didn't know you were the fancy rich type." Gale said, a bitter tone in his voice. 

"I'm not. My dad and his siblings are. Besides, this is New Orleans, and we pride ourselves on four things. Our food, our parades, our music, and our liquor." Hope said, taking her seat as she picked up her book too. "Oh, and our need for starting wars for no reason whatsoever." She added before she started reading again. 

"She seems different." Josie muttered to Lizzie. 

"From the shy kid she was when we were little, to the emo bitch when we were teens to the party girl when we left for the real world, and then after we were sent here, who knows. This girl goes through more personality changes than I do. And that's saying something. But right now she doesn't seem to be doing anything too concerning. Let's just keep an eye on her." Lizzie told her and Josie nodded in agreement. 

I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread. He could be Katniss's brother. Straight black hair, olive skin, they even have the same gray eyes. But none of us are related, at least not closely on Katniss's part. Most of the families who work the mines resemble one another this way.

That's why Poppy and Prim, with their light hair and blue eyes, always look out of place. They are. Poppy's father were part of the small merchant class that caters to officials, Peacekeepers, and the occasional Seam customer. We ran an apothecary shop in the nicer part of District 12 years ago. Since almost no one can afford doctors, apothecaries are the healers. She and her husband got to know each other because on his hunts he would sometimes collect medicinal herbs and sell them to the shop to be brewed into remedies. She really loved him, to leave her home for the Seam. I try to remember that when these days all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for the girls sake. 

Prim sighed, but didn't say anything. 

But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type. 

"You forgave him." Lizzie said, nodding at Roman as Hope sighed. 

"That was different." Hope told her and Lizzie raised a brow. 

"He helped kill your mother." 

"You what?!" Everyone who didn't know yelled, confused. 

"It wasn't his fault. His crazy mother brainwashed him into believe a bunch of bullshit about me and my family and our kind. He tried to help, he's the reason I'm still alive in the first place. So when I say drop it, I mean drop it." Hope snapped, not wanting to explain herself and she shouldn't have to. 

Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each while I strip the bushes of their berries. We settled back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, we are invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day is glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food's wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting in our mouths. Everything would be perfect if this really was a holiday, if all the day off meant was roaming the mountains with Gale, hunting for tonight's supper. But instead we have to be standing in the square at two o'clock waiting for the names to be called out.

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly. 

"What?" I ask.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale.

I don't know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous for anyone who's just a human, not so much for the supernatural. We're the only ones allowed to leave as I have over the years.

"If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. 

"Oh?" Kaleb asked her, amused. 

"Not like that." Hope said to him with a blank look. 

They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim and Katniss. And you may as well throw in his mother and my daughter, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling.

"I never want to have kids," I say. And it's true, other than Poppy and her two girls, I don't want anymore people sharing my blood in this world. Not until the Games are over. And not for the reason most people might be thinking, not because I believe my family to be evil, but because if I lose another person in my family... I might turn off my humanity again. And it would probably never come back on again. And everyone is still recovering fromt he last time I turned it off. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peeta asked her, but instead of answering Hope just shook her head, not wanting to answer that. 

"You didn't." Lizzie said after a moment. 

"Shut up." Was all Hope said to her. 

"What?" People asked, confused. 

"Nothing." Lizzie said, still staring at Hope. She understood why she'd do such a thing, and she knew Hope felt horrible about it, but she couldn't help but feel that same anger than seemed to only ever be reserved for Hope Andrea Mikaelson. 

"Neither do I." Katniss agreed. 

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

"But you do," I say, irritated.

"Forget it," he snaps back.

The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could Katniss and I leave Prim and Poppy, who are the only other people in this world I'm certain I love, other than Katniss? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did ... even if we did ... where did this stuff about having kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me, or Katniss and Gale either. When we met, I was using an illusion spell to make me look like a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older than I looked, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out. And I only agreed because of Katniss. 

Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find. 

"Sure." Finnick said teasingly. 

"I will melt you." Hope said, not even looking up. 

"No you won't, you'd miss me too much." Finnick said, still smiling. Hope glanced up, without moving her head, and stared at him, she watched as he started fidgeting, and wiping sweat off of his face. "Okay, point taken!" He finally caved and she let it continue for a second longer. 

"Hope." Roman said and she glanced at him before rolling her eyes and stopping the spell. 

"It just made him feel like he was in the desert, it wasn't going to do anything to him. The Kitchen's that way, go get some water." Hope said with a sigh, pointing at the dinning room. "Go through there, take the door on the right, turn left, straight down the hall. Go cool off." 

"I knew you wouldn't melt me." He said smugly as he got up to go get some water. 

"Boy-" She started. 

"Hope." Kol said, snickering. 

"Yeah, yeah." She muttered, turning back to the book. 

"What do you want to do?" Katniss asked, trying to ease the tension. We can hunt, fish, or gather.

"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight," he says.

Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come. 

"Poor families." Hayley said, shaking her head. 

We make out well. The predators ignore us on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries. I found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

On the way home, we swing by the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held coal. When they came up with a more efficient system that transported the coal directly from the mines to the trains, the Hob gradually took over the space. Most businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but the black market's still fairly busy. We easily trade six of the fish for good bread, the other two for salt. 

Greasy Sae, the bony old woman who sells bowls of hot soup from a large kettle, takes half the greens off our hands in exchange for a couple of chunks of paraffin. We might do a tad better elsewhere, but we make an effort to keep on good terms with Greasy Sae. She's the only one who can consistently be counted on to buy wild dog. We don't hunt them on purpose, but if you're attacked and you take out a dog or two, well, meat is meat. Although there has been a rare occasion that the wild dog turned out to be werewolves. 

Hayley grimaced, and so did the other werewolves in the room. 

"Once it's in the soup, I'll call it beef," Greasy Sae says with a wink. No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of a wild dog, but the Peacekeepers who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier. 

When we finish our business at the market, we go to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries, knowing he has a particular fondness for them and can afford our price. The mayor's daughter, Madge, opens the door. She's in my year at school. Being the mayor's daughter, you'd expect her to be a snob, but she's all right. She just keeps to herself. Like me. Since neither of us really has a group of friends, we seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sports activities. We rarely talk, which suits us both just fine. 

"Sounds like friendship to me." MG said and Hope groaned in annoyance. 

"Am I the only person in the world who didn't know we were friends?" She asked. 

"Yes." Prim said honestly and Hope groaned again, going back to the book. 

Today her drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. 

"Pretty dress," says Gale.

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment or if he's just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

Now it's Gale's turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I'm guessing the second.

"You won't be going to the Capitol," says Gale coolly. His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."

"That's not her fault," I say.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Gale. Madge's face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. 

"Good luck, Katniss." 

"You, too," I say, and the door closes. "You didn't have to be so rude about it." 

"She's right. No need to be a dick." Lizzie said to him and Gale just rolled his eyes. 

We walk toward the Seam in silence. I don't like that Gale took a dig at Madge, but he's right, of course. The reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem.

But here's the catch. Say you are poor and starving as we were. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well. So, at the fake age of twelve, I had my name entered four times, and so did Katniss. Once, because we had to, and three times for tesserae for grain and oil for Katniss, Prim, and Poppy along with extra for emergencies. And since I don't eat human food that much, my rations were added into the emergency tesserae. In fact, every year I have needed to do this. And the entries are cumulative. So now, at the age of sixteen, my name and Katniss's will be in the reaping twenty times each. Gale, who is eighteen and has been either helping or single-handedly feeding a family of five for seven years, will have his name in forty-two times. 

"Damn." Everyone muttered with a grimace. 

You can see why someone like Madge, who has never been at risk of needing a tessera, can set him off. The chance of her name being drawn is very slim compared to those of us who live in the Seam. Not impossible, but slim. And even though the rules were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly not Madge's family, it's hard not to resent those who don't have to sign up for tesserae. 

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I've listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. 

"It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine and Katniss. If it wasn't reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I'm sure she thought was a harmless comment.

As we walk, I glance over at Gale's face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression. His rages seem pointless to me, although I never say so. It's not that I don't agree with him. I do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make things fair. It doesn't fill the stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district. 

Gale just rolled his eyes. 

Gale and I divide our spoils, leaving two fish, a couple of loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a bit of money for each.

"See you in the square," I say.

"Wear something pretty," he says flatly.

At home, we find my daughter and Prim are ready to go. My daughter wears a fine dress from my old days. Prim is in Katniss's first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse, something from my Aunt Rebekah's clothing. It's a bit big on her, but my daughter  has made it stay with pins. Even so, she's having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back.

A tub of warm water waits for me and Katniss. We scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even wash our hair. To my surprise, my daughter has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for Katniss from her apothecary. A soft blue thing with matching shoes.

"Are you sure?" I hear Katniss ask, clearly trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, we were so angry, neither of us would allow her to do anything for us. And this is something special. Her clothes from her past are very precious to her. 

"Of course. Let's put your hair up, too," she says. 

I smiled slightly as I watched them before I went over to one of the open bags with my old clothes inside before pulling out an outfit. I grab a simple black velvet dress, and black jacket, a pair of my black healed boots and the emerald earrings that my dad sent me for my ninth birthday before we had stopped talking a few months later. The last gift I ever got from him before he died. 

Klaus sighed sadly, knowing he missed so many years because he was scared of what she would say about what she saw, when he should have just talked to her. 

I magic-dry my hair and let Poppy braid it up on my head. I can hardly recognize myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall.

"You look beautiful," says Prim in a hushed voice.

"And nothing like myself," I say, which was true, because I always had my hair in a loose braid down my back or just fully down. I hug her, because I know these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping. She's about as safe as you can get, since she's only entered once. I wouldn't let her take out any tesserae. But she's worried about me and Katniss. That the unthinkable might happen.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I'm almost completely powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. 

"Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing the blouse back in place.

Prim giggles and gives me a small, "Quack."

"Quack yourself," Katniss said, walking over with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of her. 

"Come on, let's eat," I say and plant a quick kiss on the top of their heads. 

"You're a good mom." Josie said to her and she sighed. 

"Not really." Hope said sadly. She failed in the one thing that mattered most to her daughter, saving her friend in the games, and since then they both knew that there was a slight chill in their relationship, and after Poppy shut down and forced Hope to raise the girls, it only got worse. 

The fish and greens are already cooking in a stew, but that will be for supper. We decided to save the strawberries and bakery bread for this evening's meal, to make it special we say. Instead we drink milk from Prim's goat, Lady, and eat the rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has much appetite anyway. I try to force down some animal blood from the butcher, but it has never been my thing. Still, it was safer to drink that than the human blood in 12 that had been infected over the years by the coal dust, and was now too poisonous to drink. 

"That sucks." Lizzie said, scrunching up her nose at that. 

"Tell me about it." Hope said, making a face. 

At one o'clock, we head for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.

It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square — one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant. The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.

People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, like Prim, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Seam or merchant, if they will break down and weep. 

"That's horrible." Josie said, frowning. 

"That's District 12 for you." Katniss shrugged. 

Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law? I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect me. Not everyone can claim the same.

Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker. At least with the bullet I have a chance of getting to a better place than this hell. If I die from hunger I desicate, which will just make life a new kind of living hell. 

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state. 

I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from the Seam, next to Katniss. We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. I stare at the paper slips in the girls' ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting. I don't care if I'm pulled into the games, I only care if she is. 

Everyone looked worried for Katniss and Prim- Or at least those who didn't know how this would end. 

Two of the three chairs fill with Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, who's a tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion.

Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. 

"Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen." 

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation. 

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor. 

Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off. 

Everyone in the room either snickered in remembrance of watching it on the TV last year or grimaced. 

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have shifted slightly off-center since her encounter with Haymitch. She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here, although everyone knows she's just aching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors, not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation.

Effie blushed slightly as if she was caught, but everyone knew it was true, and no one could blame her for it. 

Through the crowd, I spot Gale looking back at me with a ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment factor. But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he's thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away. "But there are still thousands of slips," I wish I could whisper to him. 

"You, better than anyone, know that odds don't matter when nature wants something bad enough." Freya told the Tribrid who sighed to herself, knowing how very true that was. 

It's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, "Ladies first!"and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not Katniss, that it's not Katniss, that it's not Katniss. 

Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not Katniss. Or me.

It's Primrose Everdeen. 

"No." Those who didn't know said sadly. 

"Oh, Hope-" Josie started. 

"It's not over yet. But this is the end of the chapter. Here." Hope said, handing it to Peeta who took the book and started reading.