Maple [The 72nd Hunger Games]

Chapter 1

DISTRICT 10

The sun began to rise over the pastures, settling everything under a haze of orange, but it did little to shadow the blood that dripped from my fingertips onto the pallid grass.

At first, the Peacekeepers panicked upon seeing me, usually decorated in splotches of crimson and gore. They would search me, interrogate me with bright lights in my eyes that made them ache and with butts of guns threatening my every movement. Murder was a rare thing in the districts—the Capitol did enough of it for everyone—but it did happen. I knew a man once who killed his wife, keeping it hidden so he could keep collecting the money she received from old bets and favors.

Now, it was known that I did not spend my time cutting into human—but animals, which didn't fare much better among the general public.

I was an apprentice to the butchers. Most of my hours outside of school was either spent at home or in the little stone shop. It stank of sterile metal and something nasty, that at first made my stomach lurch. I got used to it quickly.

My job was to clean and gut the creature before Mr. Gray, my mentor would cut them up in perfect ribbons, making sure only to get the edible flesh and remove any diseases areas, only to have me package them and sell them. When I had first begun, people seemed surprised to see a young girl my age behind the counter that held the mutilated remains of cows, goats, and other deities, but that shock had long since worn off. People were no longer impressed by my work ethic but disgusted by my trade. There is enough blood on the streets between whippings and executions for me to choose to bathe my hands in it. As if it was a choice.

A package of finely wrapped pork was protected underneath my armpit. Stealing was illegal—punishable by death—but some people were dying anyway and it didn't matter to them. If anything, a bullet would be much quicker than starving to death. Usually, Mr. Gray did not have mercy on me and would send me home with nothing more than the coins he paid me with. I suspected it had something to do with the Reaping nearing. Meat always made the dread subside—only slightly.

The walk from town to my house was far, but the air was fresh and I took a shortcut beneath the barbed wire of my neighbor's property to get to mine quicker. I just had to be careful of the Worth's dogs—mean mutts with barred fangs who would have loved to get a fresh bite of the meat in my hands—or my hands entirely.

My house sat upon a green hill, beneath laying a meadow. Aspen, my youngest and only sister, had a love for the gardens, making sure our yard was always prospering when all the others died. It always lasted the longest into winter.

I trekked up to the house, shouldering open the door and screams immediately assaulted my ears.

"Maple's home! Maple's home!" Aspen cried, having seen me at the front door and was now sprinting throughout the house to announce my presence. There was no sneaking in and out with that girl.

"Finally," a blond boy sighed from the doorway, juggling two kicking toddlers in his hands. "I got the bread, you?"

I held up the package. "A special gift. I still have the cash."

"Good, keep them for later. We'll need to get Hunter a new pair of shoes soon."

"Why?" I demanded, staring down one of the boys who went sheepish in my brother's grasp.

"I . . ."

"Tell her," the older boy growled.

"I was playing in the neighbors' yard and one of the dogs almost got me." He looked down at his floating feet. The fabric of his shoes was tore and filled with holes.