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AVANI-CLAIRE HARTT SAT SILENTLY IN A LARGE BUSH, BREATHS INAUDIBLE, BLUE EYES LASER-FOCUSED ON THE RABBIT NOSING AROUND IN THE GRASS. She heard the faint shifts of a person behind her, loud enough for her to notice, but not the rabbit.
Her gaze was calculative, piercing, anticipating where and when the animal would move. The sun was going down, drenching the forest in streaks of gold. She moved the wood and metal spear she had in her right hand slowly, smoothly, lifting it from near her feet to over her shoulder without as much as a rustle.
"Deadeye," She heard her father whisper.
The rabbit turned from one direction to the other. Avani stood up slowly, keeping her weight balanced so as to stay completely silent. She reared back, twisted the spear in her hand, and let it fly, shooting through the air like lightning and hitting its mark; right in the rabbit's side.
"Yes!" Her father exclaimed from behind her, rising as well. When she turned back to look at him, his face was sprawled into the dorkiest of grins, his blonde hair and bright blue eyes shining in the sun. "That's four on the first shot!"
He hurried past her toward the rabbit. The large brown bag he had hanging across his body was weighty, holding the carcasses of the other three rabbits Avani had speared during their hunting session.
She followed behind him, her brown ponytail whacking her in the face as she turned on the opposite side of the dead rabbit. Her father picked up the spear and held the end out to her, and immediately she grabbed the animal by the scruff of its neck and pulled it off the point.
"If I were a rabbit, I'd be packing to move right about now," He stated, and they switched, Avani handing over the carcass and her father returning her spear.
"Thanks?" She questioned with a light chuckle, cleaning off the bloody end with a handkerchief she kept on the utility belt of her brown overalls. She typically wore a long sleeve shirt underneath, green or tan, but it was warm today, so she was wearing a green tank top instead. Her ratty brown boots were falling apart at the seams, and there were holes in the toes and the soles were peeling, but she liked them.
Her father smiled, and he glowed. He always glowed, like a radiant Sunday morning, the sunrise reflected in a lake, the golden wheat fields of District Nine that Avani could only imagine. His light could brighten anyone's day, and it often did. Working in the mines of District Twelve was a dirty, dark, and all around bad job, but he always came home with a smile on his face and stories to tell.
He'd done that for as long as Avani could remember — glowed. She remembered him glowing with his radiant joy when taking her to classes when she was young. She remembered him glowing when he was teaching her how to hunt, even though it was illegal to leave the Districts and poach, both of which hunting involved. She remembered their darkest days, when she became old enough to be Reaped, when they had to apply for tesserae and therefore got her name put in the Hunger Games drawing more times than they'd like, he never faltered, always glowed.
He glowed when he had to pick her up from school for causing a fight, he glowed when he stood in the crowd at Reapings, he glowed when they almost got caught crawling beneath the District's fence at sunset. He always glowed. Always.
Maybe that's why Avani didn't need anyone else — no one glowed like her dad did.
"We'll have enough rabbit for a few days worth of stew, maybe even a week!" He stored away the rabbit carcass and clapped Avani on the back with a blinding smile. "I'm so proud of you, peanut. You can probably spear anything!" He praised. His eyes suddenly lit up even brighter, if that was possible. "I should take you spear fishing!"
"That sounds like fun," She replied, bringing the spear behind her and letting it come to rest in the makeshift quiver-like holder her father had made for her. It was leather, secured around her waist and torso, sort of like a crossbody bag.
Her father looked at the setting sun, exhaling and bathing in the warmth. "We should get walking if we want to make it home before dark."
"Okay," Avani chided, speed-walking up to her father's side. This home he mentioned was actually a one bedroom shack on the outskirts of District Twelve called the Seam. The floor was falling in, some of the windows were broken and covered with towels, and they both shared a bedroom with two mattresses in the floor. Electricity only came on for a few hours at night, if you were lucky, and they ate and drank and bathed with boiled well-water. But it was home.
Avani didn't mind going home. The electric fences around District Twelve came on near dark, and it wouldn't be fun to crawl back under them like that. Plus, if they waited much longer, they might accidentally run into someone else who snuck out of the District to hunt. Which Avani didn't really want to do.
"We'll have to hunt again tomorrow, this was so much fun," He stated, turning and heading back through the woods the way they'd come. Avani fell quiet and the forest grew oddly cool. She kept in step with her father for a few moments before his statement seemed to snap in place, and her silence made sense.
Tomorrow was the Reaping for the 75th Annual Hunger Games. The name-drawing ceremony where a boy and a girl, ages twelve to eighteen, were chosen from each of the twelve Districts to take place in the Hunger Games. A fight-to-the-death between twenty-four children where only the last one standing can emerge victorious.
Not to mention it was the Quarter Quell, a variation of the Hunger Games that only happened every twenty-five years that was always more brutal and deadly than the rest.
Her father seemed to catch on, turning around and stopping her in her path. His icy eyes met her matching ones with the glimmer of adoration he always seemed to have when looking at her.
"We're going to hunt again tomorrow, Avani," He said, his voice so sure, so positive that it melted away the tension in her shoulders. "Your names in the drawing less than ten times. It's going to be okay."
She sighed, hanging her head. Some of the shorter pieces of hair fell out of her ponytail and fluttered around in front of her face. She focused on her boots, on the tiny bit of sock she could see through the holes in the toes.
"But there's always a chance," She muttered, pinching the leather of her belt between her fingers.
"There is," He nodded. One of his hands drifted up and landed on her shoulder supportively. "But there's a way bigger chance it won't be."
She glanced up at him, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, her father's unending glow magnified by the sunset shining on his face. He smiled at her.
She couldn't help but offer a closed-lip smile in return.
"C'mon, let's get home and make your favorite stew," He said happily, shaking her shoulder. "Last one there's a rotten racehorse!"
With that, he took off running through the woods, leaving Avani to do nothing but eat his dust.
Her dad was glowing so bright she decided to believe him. For tonight.
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