(UNDER EDITING) Willow Mellark-Rising Ashes

Chapter 2

The Announcement

Willows P.O.V (16 years later)

The leaves were a sea of orange and brown on the floor, and the trees were almost completely barren. The large forest of District 12 wouldn't provide much shelter from the weather this time of year. My mother told me once, during our first archery practice, that it used to be illegal to even step in the forest. She would often say that the expansion of the district, so that it encompassed a large portion of the forest within its borders, felt almost therapeutic. She taught me to respect the forest and what it provides for us; told me how blessed we were now that we didn't have to risk our lives to see its mighty secrets.

Before I was born my mother, along with other fortunate survivors of the Bombing of District 12, made a large tombstone for those lives lost during the war. The school visits it each year. I remember the ladies in the market said that each tree on the borders of District 12 represented a lost soul. In a way, there's always been some sort of reverence toward the woods that I feel will stay with us forever.

Still, I cannot imagine a world where I would be punished for going into those trees and seeing the majestic animals of the forest roam freely through the trees. In four months, on the 17th of November, it will be 18 years that I've been alive and about seven years since my mother started teaching me archery in those very woods. Today was another one of those days. My mother and I were on our way down to the forest, the leaves crunching underneath each step. The air was crisp and filled with the aroma of autumn. For the first couple of years, walking around with bows, other hunting equipment, or any other weapons was legal until an incident with oyster knives in District 4 and mobs formed in several districts. After that, President Snow condemned any caught walking around with any; except for the Peacekeepers.

When we got to the edge of the forest, we walked half a mile north to the large hollowed-out oak tree where we hid our bows and arrows. The food started to get scarcer the more years that flew by because of all the regulations that were put back into place. Thankfully, we had the forest, and all that it provided and, if we walked far enough in, the hole in the electric fence was left when a damaged pillar fell. The government didn't care much about repairing it, not many people knew about it but of course, Katniss Everdeen found it.

By late morning, the backpack weighed down my back filled with apples and my mother's was filled with game. Since a few animals always managed to get into the lines of District 12 and the apple orchards were within district limits, the Peacekeepers never asked any questions when we brought these things to the market to sell for everyone to eat. We ran a few other errands we had to complete before we stopped by the bakery to assist my dad, I baked, and my mother took care of orders. A few hours passed when Peacekeepers were spotted going from shop to shop in the town square. When they came in through the door, they were magisterial and stood in the center of the bakery. Everyone's attention was immediately on them, in an excessively loud and rude manner he told all the Patrons to leave and go home. My dad asked them about the nature of their order and the speaker turned towards us for a split second before announcing to the whole bakery,

"Orders of President Snow. The announcements about the circumstances of The Reaping will be broadcasted this evening at 6 p.m. The President has ordered mandatory viewing. All citizens are to be in their homes or the town square watching."

Everyone hurried out of the bakery as we hurried to finish the last few orders and clean up. By the evening, the entirety of Panem was settled around whatever screen they could awaiting the announcement. It was clear that nothing good was going to come out of it. It wasn't a common practice to shut the district down. It only happened every five years during the Quinquennial. President Drakob Snow thought that the methods of the previous President Snow were weak and that a person having three-Quarter Quells in their lifetimes was not enough to install the necessary fear to control them. Instead of the Quarter Quell, which was every 25 years, we now have the Quinquennial, which is every five years. Meaning, every five years there's a new wave of terror that reminds us that we are not in charge. He also changed another minuscule detail, Victors of the Games have only two options: Give up their life at home and work for the Capital indifferently or Stay in their districts but risk being reaped again. The Capitol anthem played and the Seal of Panem was displayed on the screen. After the anthem finished playing through its entirety, President Snow came into view speaking directly from the Presidential Office. He gave a small smile before addressing the nation, his voice so powerful it echoed.

"Welcome! People of Panem, beloved children of our forefathers. You all know why I am here; it is time for our third Quinquennial. As usual, there shall be a very...special twist, as any good childhood game should have. To make things more alluring, this year's twist will be drawn from the bowl on the desk in front of me. How riveting!" His tone turned almost gitty towards the end, he stood from his chair as the camera zoomed out, "Without any further ado, let's draw one of the many twists possible."

His fingers were thin and spindly, like spider webs, as they reached in to pull out the fate of this year's tributes. A unanimous breath hold was felt in the room, the tension high as he finally picked a piece of paper out from the bowl, painstakingly slow. The camera zoomed in on his hands, the focus held on the piece of paper brought as his fingers opened the folded piece. The camera went back to its original position so that the President was fully seen. He read the writings and smiled slyly.

"And now, the moment we've all been waiting for..." He spoke in a manner that felt like we were watching the results of a raffle at school, "...this Quinquennial's twist is..." he ordered for a drumroll before his big announcement, drumming along on the desk.

"One male tribute and victor along with one female tribute and victor will be reaped into this year's games. Four tributes in this year's Hunger Games, good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The room fell silent with tension so thick it was practically crushing us. No one moved, no one talked, we just sat and processed everything that had been said. Three of us were now officially at risk of being reaped, two of us for the third time, and one of us was inevitably going into the game for the third time. My mother, Katniss Everdeen, The Girl on Fire, The Mockingjay was going to be going into the arena. My father and I were at risk, and this was supposed to be my final year, how ironic. My mother was the first one to move, looking towards my father, her eyes huge and desperate. She put her hand firmly, as to reaffirm her seriousness.

"Peeta we've been through this once before I won't be making the same mistake. You are not going this time. I know what the means for Haymitch but... I am not going to let them put you through that again. You still haven't recovered and- and we have Willow now and...and─" My father cut her off, her words were barely able to escape her mouth.

Seeing how distressed she was he pulled her in close, he was visibly terrified as his hands shook but tried to put on a brave face for all of us. He did his best to calm my mother down in the hugging position they were on the couch. She clanged desperately to him and dug her nails into his back. His face contorted into pain where it rested on her shoulder as he knew there wasn't much he could do. We all did. It was completely out of our hands, but our minds tried to grasp at any straws we had, but with my mother being the only living female victor of District 12... she was for sure going into the arena. It was a harsh reality that the next two days were possibly our last as a family together.

My throat felt dry, and it was difficult to swallow the little saliva I had left. I told myself to breathe as my hands began to clam up and my chest tightened. My father noticed and pulled me into their hug, tightly wrapping one arm around me and one around my mother.

He kissed the top of my head before he finally spoke up again, "I can promise I can protect us from this but what I can say is that the next two days are going to be spent together as a family. We are a family always first and foremost."