❖ Book 1 of 3 ❖
【 Slow burn fanfic 】
║ A Prequel to the Hunger Games Trilogy ║
Isla Dunne of District 4 was a career. She had trained her whole life for the Hunger Games, an annual event held by the Capitol. A blood bath where 2 children, ages 12-18...
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THE DAY HAD finally come. The reaping of the Seventy Third Hunger Games. Isla was sure that every boy and girl, ages twelve to eighteen in nine of the districts were anxious, full of fear at the thought of their name coming out of the pristine glass bowl atop the stage at the Hall of Justice. That wasn't the case for Districts One, Two, and Four. They were anxious, yes, but in anticipation and excitement. Isla, being from District Four and seventeen years old, could hardly contain herself. She slept for a mere four hours, as today was the day she had been training her entire life for.
Being from a 'Career District', one of the three districts that illegally trained tributes to volunteer for the games, was already an advantage in itself. Not only did she have years of training and advice, but coming from one of the wealthiest districts too had its perks. Isla had no need for tesserae, putting her name in the bowl for more food from the government at the higher risk of being chosen. She was well-fed, well-groomed, and strong. Her everyday worries did not include that of her family's wellbeing, but how to balance training, school, and her social life. An extreme opposite of those in the poorer districts, such as Districts 11 or 12.
Isla was so excited for the reaping, in fact, that she already had her outfit laid out. A simple white, cotton dress with a scooping neckline and long sleeves. It flowed around her body to allow the salt air to cool off her skin, which she decided would be helpful as she'd soon be standing in the town square under the golden rays of the sun. Her long, dirty blonde locks were naturally messy from the salt water, so she tied them back in a simple low ponytail with a piece of fishing rope.
"Almost ready?" Her mother, Ophelia, peered into the bedroom. Isla gave her a small nod, accompanied by a reassuring smile. Isla knew her mother was unsure of the games, silently against her only daughter being a career. However, Isla's father, Nile, was a different story. He had wanted a son, to train and bring glory to the family. However, he and his wife were only able to have a singular daughter, so he made do. And Ophelia had to accept her daughter's fate.
Soon enough, Isla was walking the stone pathway to the Hall of Justice. Her mother and father had said they would catch up with her in the building after the reaping to say their goodbyes. Her father looked nothing but excited, while Isla could tell her mother was apprehensive, but painted a happy face to please her husband and to reassure her daughter. Isla almost thought of not volunteering, to calm her mother. However, after nearly twelve years of training, she had to admit that her father's dream had slowly become her own.
Absentmindedly, Isla held out her pointer finger to the woman at the table. She felt a small prick, and her finger was squeezed as it was pressed against a piece of paper. "Next." The monotone voice spoke again, letting Isla know she was dismissed. She made her way to the crowd of seventeen year olds near the back, joining her familiar classmates. Isla spotted her best friend Amelia's brunette hair as it shone under the peaking sun. She was two rows ahead, as they were a year apart in age.
