Prim in the games

Chapter one; The reaping

I wake curled up against my mother. I shiver slightly as I remember my dreams from last night. I have been plagued by nightmares for many days now, but last night was particularly bad. Images of my mangled body being lifted from an arena, of Katniss being murdered before my eyes flash through my mind. I had feared these dreams and they had come, horrors from which only in dawn could I escape. Last night I had shuffled from my bed in a haze of panic and collapsed into my mothers arms. I try to imagine how Katniss must have looked at me this morning. She would have resented that I chose to lie with my mother. She has never truly forgiven her for the way that she acted after father died. I on the other hand forgave her willingly. I think that Katniss hates me a little for that. I turn to her bed but all I can see is the sunlight bouncing off of her white sheets. She is gone. Quickly I look to the bowl on the counter and a smile touches my lips. At least she got the cheese. I wonder for only a second where she is before the answer dawns on me, glaringly obvious and simple. She is in the woods. Katniss has always loved the woods. She used to go there all the time with father, and she has started going more often since his death. She says that It's because she needs to feed us, but I think that it is more than that. I think that in the woods with Gale is the one place that she feels truly free. I rise from the bed, careful not to stir mother and walk over to the small dresser which stands in the far corner of the room. I lift a heavy silver brush, a remnant of my mothers apothecary days, and pull it through my bed-mussed hair. It takes a while but finally I can pull the brush through my long blond locks as though they are made of water and I set it down. I am suddenly flooded with panic and I have to double over to keep from heaving. Though I know that there is little chance of my or Katniss's names being drawn, I am still scared. This is my first ever reaping, and so my name is entered only once. It would be more, but Katniss has forbade me from signing up for tesserae. She however has her name entered sixteen times, not to mention the tesserae she has signed up for. In that instant all I can see are the little slips which say Katniss Everdeen floating around in that glass ball. But the feeling passes and I shakily climb to my feet. I walk forward and lift high into the air the beautiful beige outfit that my mother has chosen for me to wear for reaping day. I remove my night-clothes and place them, folded, onto a chair which sits near the dresser. I then put the outfit on, tucking my white button-down shirt into my ankle-length brown skirt. I then sit down, picking up the brush once more and setting to work on my hair. I split my long golden curls into two waves which fall down my front. I then take one side and braid it, making sure to keep it as tight as possible, and finish it off with a neat white ribbon, which I tie into a bow. I do the same on the other side and by the time I am done I give myself a small smile in the mirror. I lean down and pull my thick, scratchy cotton socks on. In then step into my new, mud-coloured boots and, smoothing my skirt look at myself in the mirror. I look pretty and bland. I will be able to blend right into the crowd. I smile again. My mother has nailed the outfit. I look exactly as I am supposed to for my first ever reaping.

I walk quietly outside, trying to step as lightly as I can so as to not wake my mother. I open the wooden door and move to the small, yellow, patchy paddock which we use to house my goat, Lady. I am not entirely sure how Katniss came about Lady. All I know is that is it a story which involves both the goat man and the butcher. I crouch down, careful not to dirty the bottom of my skirt, and lift a small metal bucket from the cornet of Lady's yard. I place it beneath her and begin to milk.

When I have finished milking Lady I walk inside, and I have just begun to ready the milk for drinking when the door opens and Katniss walks through. I was right about the hunting, for she carries a bag loaded with game and what appears to be strawberries. I run forward and wrap my arms around her middle. She lets out a laugh and pats my back affectionately. I pull away from her and we take each other in. She is wearing her leather hunting boots, rough pants and shirt and my fathers old hunting jacket. I feel a pang of longing shoot through me. I miss him so. She raises an eyebrow when she sees me and smiles approvingly. I feel my heart soar at the fact that she thinks that I look good. I turn to go back and finish cleaning the milk but she stops me and tucks the back of my shirt into my skirt.