Scars That Never Fade- A New Generation of Hunger Games

Chapter 1

I walked down the rocky hill, through the tall, thick trees. Mockingjays above sang that sweet 4-note tune, so comforting to me. Though repetitive, it was a beautiful song that never changed, which I needed; too many things had changed for me lately.

I was originally from District 2, living peacefully with my mother and father. However, my mother died when I was too young to even remember. My father, a government worker, wasn't around much, leaving me to take care of myself. I knew he loved me very much, however. He always told me how he admired my fire and strength. Sometimes, when he could, he'd take me hunting in the woods. I never thought of myself as being very good, but my father was a sure shot. How I'd loved those hunting trips with him. Just last year though, he'd gone on a trip. A long one. He had me taken to District 12 to be watched over by my grandmother, who seldom left the house.

As I walked deeper into the woods, I worried more and more. This I hated about myself. I often worried myself into a frenzy. I though about my father now. Why did he have to leave me? And why was he gone so long? Is it because of the men, lining the streets with their scary helmets and guns? Or this so-called new leader I always hear about? Nothing had seemed to change, but when I thought hard about it, these small differences could add up to something big. I didn't have very much time to worry, though, because I heard a familiar voice call my name.

"Fern!" I spun around to see Theo Mellark, a boy of 14, my age, standing at the top of the hill. I waved at him, and he began to run down to me. He was tall and tan-skinned, muscles rippling from his arms from his skills with a bow.

"I thought I'd find you here," he grinned. But something behind his smile was different. I chose to ignore it.

"You wanna hunt today?" I asked him. Theo always liked hunting, but I was not in favor of it, at least not today. Like I said before, I had little talent when it came to archery. However, much to my surprise, he shook his head no. "Fern, I think....I think we need to talk."

Oh, no. What could this mean? I looked at him cautiously. He looked up past the trees and into the sky.

"Theo?" I said to him, afraid, "Theo, what's going on?" He turned his head slowly toward mine, and I did not like the look on his face.

"Do you ever remember the things I told you...about my parents and the rebellion? About how Panem used to be?" He looked very worried indeed. "Do you remember what I told you about the games?"

"Yeah." I shuddered a little. Theo had told me frightening things about Panem in the past. It was a bad place. Theo began to speak again.

"Well, things aren't going well. They're going back to the way they were before. Bad people are trying to take over again, and they're after every adult that's against them. People like my parents."

"And my dad," I said. Things were starting to make sense. Not everything was clear, but at least I could think of he possibilities.

"What I need to tell you is... My family is leaving. We are escaping Panem before anything else happens. But I'm staying. They don't know. I'm staying with you."

All of this information was too much for me to handle at one time.

"Why would you stay with me?" I barked, "Theo, you know that is ridiculous. Go with your family. Go with your mom, your dad. Go with Rosie."

"They don't need me," Theo scoffed. "Can you imagine? My father?" He was almost laughing. "My MOTHER?" I managed to let out a laugh. The thought of Theo's parents needing anyone was a bit far-fetched. They had survived TWO Hunger Games after all.

"Theo," I said, "this might sound ridiculous coming from me, but don't be stubborn like that. If your parents want you to come with them, it's for the best. I don't know them all that well, but I do know that whatever they are planning will keep you and me safe. Trust me." Theo rolled his eyes. He was a great friend to me but sometimes I couldn't stand his cockiness, if you could call it that.

"Whatever," he said defiantly, "what they say...it doesn't matter. I'd rather get in trouble than not see you. And who knows how long it could be? A month? A year? Ten? Forever?"

"Trust me." That is all I could say, because I really didn't know.