Whispers from the Woods: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter II: The Name

There is to be a "mini" Hunger Games for each district, with the amount of tributes according to their district number.

"It will go as follows: District 1 will have a reaping as usual, and reap two tributes who will then each choose one person who they want to go into the games with; District two will reap four tributes and they will go to the games together; District 3 will have six tributes battle until there are four left; District 4 will reap 8, who will compete in a Hunger Games until there are and so on. The four victors of these little games will then go on to the main Hunger Games. And everyone has an even chance of being reaped. Tesserae shall not be taken into account this year – everyone has even chances this way." The way Coin is joyful when she announces it makes me sick.

The rest of the bitter, cold woman's speech is about how it represents the history of our "beautiful country". Each district's number of tributes is double their district number to show each district has its own position and there were two rebellions. And then the four winners of the little games will be sent into the main games, which are replicating the Second Quarter Quell: with 48 tributes instead of 24. Even more gore for the people in the Capitol to gobble up, I suppose.

I'm taken aback. The whole District is taken aback. I can imagine the whole of Panem is taken aback too! Nothing like this has ever happened before in the history of the Hunger Games. All anyone can do now is pray it's not them. Then Coin adds: "And three tributes from the last district standing may be crowned victor." That's the only thing stopping complete and utter rebelling, riots and destruction in the districts - it's sad that now having two more lives out of a potential forty seven spared is what our world has come to.

The plump, little escort dips his hand hesitantly into the huge receptacle. Clearly reluctant, he opens the envelope and reads out the name: "Hazel Croft." I know her! She's close with Ivy – and she's ten... There are whispers, followed by an uproar in another part of the crowd: how dare they let a ten year old go into the Hunger Games! And then it hits me. Ivy.

"Ackley Arbore." A 16 year old. I used to see him all the time in the village school before he went to work full-time in the trees.

"Cedar Pinheiro" I don't recognise him, but he looks rough.

So far, Ivy is safe. Three more names are called, and there's just one name left. I close my eyes, worrying for the worst as there's so far been one tribute under the age of 12, which makes me queasy. Suddenly I feel a hand grab mine. And then the other side. As I look up, I see the whole district hand in hand. I have no time to even wonder about the consequences for all of us because before I know it, the name is called.

"Sequoia Attwood."

My heart starts racing. When I look up, I see all eyes and cameras fixed on me. I hear the muffled noise of Ivy calling my name desperately, although I can barely hear a thing. Stepping forward, the whole group splits for me to walk through, though it's hard to walk because my legs are jelly.

Thump.

I can hear my heart pounding, and think it may as well be thunder, it's so loud. I must admit, I am slightly embarrassed (it's a bit silly though, seeing as though this is probably my last time in District 7). If it were any other time, I would've felt regal and I would've loved walking down that honorary path. But now all I want to do is die the easy way.

Every tribute up on that stage has been working with an axe their whole life; I have no advantage there. Every one of them can climb trees – no advantage there either. I'm just like all of them. But, judging by the way some of them look, I'm probably half their size and strength. I keep walking forward until I reach the steps and take my place next to a tall, fairly pale boy. Saturn exclaims somewhat enthusiastically, "Meet your District 7 tributes! And happy Hunger Games!" then ushers us away. All of the other tributes keep their eyes fixed on the ground, but I push the peacekeepers aside and run to my mother and Ivy. Conveniently, they've both rushed to the front of the sea of expressionless people to try their best to squeeze in one last goodbye. I hug Ivy and tell mother to keep an eye on her and protect them both. The relief I feel with them is short-lived though, as I'm immediately grabbed and forcefully yanked back. My eyes meet my mother's and I cry. I can't help it! And before I know it, all fourteen of us have been herded into a train like dogs. But a bit more glamorous.