ást og stríð [treech]

i

Maizelynn Dal was dead.

She had died the day she came to District One. Left in her place was Eydis. Gone was the girl with a warm and sunny personality. All of that had been stripped away, leaving nothing but cruelty and cold. But Eydis didn't miss who she used to be. This new version of her felt powerful, not like the child who cried herself to sleep every night after her father died. Not like the girl who woke up screaming from nightmares about her sister's death. Eydis Dal was strong, Maizelynn was not.

Eydis, her former middle name, was better suited for the luxury district. In an ancient island civilization, it had once been the name of the goddess of fortune. A name related to grains would not fare well. Eydis's mother became Freyja, named for the goddess of beauty.

Eydis tended to keep to herself, wandering the untended fields of wheat on the outskirts of the district. She could see the fence that surrounded District Nine in the distance, a symbol of the life she had once lived. Home was so close, yet so far away. Eydis longed to go back, but at least here, she was free.

The stalks of wheat tickled the bare skin of Eydis's arms as she wandered through the field, soaking in the warm summer sun. It was July, a notoriously warm month in District One. Eydis flipped the small dagger she held in her palm. She never left home without it. She never knew when something was lurking in the fields. A snake, a bobcat, or someone who could hurt her. She hadn't injured a human before, she wondered what it would be like.

The grass rustled to Eydis's left. She whirled around, holding her knife in front of her. The point ended up inches from a boy's face. His eyes widened as he backed up.

She recognized him from school. He was around a year younger than her, one of the richer students, which said something, as District One was the wealthiest of the districts. He was tall and relatively handsome, the kind of boy the girls at school fawned over. Eydis wasn't sure why he was out in the middle of the field. People didn't tend to do that.

Eydis lowered her knife a little, but stayed ready to strike.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked coolly.

"Just getting fresh air before the Reaping," said the boy.

Eydis narrowed her eyes, looking at him with disgust.

The boy paled and backed up. "I'll leave you alone," he said, before disappearing into the wheat.

Eydis shrugged and carried on. She decided she'd been out long enough and ventured back to her house. It was barely a house, more of a shed, on the outskirts of the district. Eydis and her mother were outcasts, since they hadn't been born in One. They hadn't been truly accepted into society, even nearly eleven years later.

Eydis opened the door, where she was met by the stench of wheat alcohol. Since moving to District One, Eydis and her mother had resorted to brewing and selling drinks in order to make a living. Their customers enjoyed the brews traditionally made in District Nine. Eydis hated the stuff, but her mother also seemed to live off of it, not just the money they earned. Freyja's disconnect from reality used to hurt Eydis, but at this point, she couldn't feel the pain anymore. Being in touch with her emotions would only leave Eydis with more pain.

Eydis brushed through her long blonde hair and braided it, a technique she had once learned from her mother. Every time she did her hair, her mind trailed to her sister, who had never been taught the skill. Eydis quickly wiped away the thought. Thinking of the past wouldn't be of any use to her.

The girl changed out of her simple dress and into a white shirt and tan pants. District One had a tradition in which children eligible for the reaping had to wear their school clothing for uniformity, but Eydis refused every year. If she was selected for the Hunger Games, she wanted to be there in something she could move freely in, not the stiff, starchy uniforms she wore every day to school. Sure, she was scolded every year for it, but she felt prepared.