The Hunger Games - Peeta Mellark (1)

}1{ - The Reaping

Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you were born an animal?

Clueless to what goes on, merely living just to live.

Food is whatever you could imagine. Grass, bark, berries.

You could just lay your head on a bed of grass or cuddle up in a small cave.

There was peace among the animals, an unspoken truce that allowed the ecosystem to exist and thrive.

Sometimes Livia wished she were a bird, so she could fly far away.

Birds didn't kill other birds, nor were they sent to slaughter.

The metal disc left her fingers and lodged itself into the tree, impaling the bird.

Livia decided dying a bird was much less cruel.

One second they're free and flying and then nothing.

She wished it was that simple always.

Livia trudged towards the tree, watching in the distance as the rest of the flock that had survived flew off.

She supposed death wasn't so hard as a bird. Birds didn't grieve or at least not in the way humans did.

Her foot tucked into the crease where the trunk met the branches.

Livia tugged the star from the bird's neck and the bird fell into her waiting hands.

Carefully she jumped down the tree, stuffing the bird into her bag and the star into the little pouch attached to her belt.

There wasn't much for the sake of woods, district two was mostly mountains with very little greenery.

Livia had found that in the valleys of the connecting mountains, were these little patches of life where hunting was the most successful.

Not many people dared to venture out of the district barriers, for fear of punishment, except the desperate and hungry.

Livia hugged the bag to her chest as she ducked under the curling wire fence.

Some days it was on, the buzzing prominent. On those days, Livia didn't dare venture outside.

This morning it was surprisingly off, but Livia supposed there was much else to worry about.

Livia could relax once she was back in town, but she still kept her bag close to her side.

Her shoes kicked the gravel beneath her, crunching on the small rocks.

District two was split down the middle, marked by either side of the mountain in the middle- where Capitol workers buzzed from inside the hollowed out structure.

On the one side were the Patricians.

The patricians were the wealthy. They had the nicest houses and facilities.

They were born rich or grew so on the backs of others.

Livia passed the training center.

If it were any other day, it would be full of Patrician kids who had nothing better to do than train.

In between the two sides was the plaza, used for announcements and celebrations and- once a year- for the reaping.

On the other side, the Plebeians, the poor working class.

The plebeians were the ones in the quarries, suffering injuries and losing limbs.

They were the smiths, the shop keepers, the builders.