We Stood Strong

Chapter 1: Fishing Lessons

The following story is an added on fan made scenes of Susan Collins' The Hunger Games. Some scenes are inspired by the youtube series.

Chapter 1 [Finnick's P.O.V.] (age 10)

I didn't like it.

I had been standing in the water, waiting for fish to catch for what felt like forever, but the problem was: there were no fish in this area. I had been waiting for this day for the past few years: the day my father would take me on my first fishing lesson.

Each day, just in the last hours of light, my father would burst through the front door of our small shack-of-a-house with a large metal bucket, full of enough fish to make a dinner for two. Usually, he would do this on the days when the catch was good, and he had already caught the required about of fish for his job. If the conditions that day were rough, and he could only provide enough of the fish to keep his job, we would use the spare money we did have, and spend it on food from somewhere along the boardwalk, where the district people sold shellfish for cheap prices. But that rarely happened, because my father was a skilled fisher, as it seemed.

I had always wanted to go spearing with him, but he would claim I was too young. I would plead that I would be safe, but that wasn't what he was implying. Maybe it was that I just wouldn't understand how spearing worked. And now, I have finally reached that age when he is ready to teach me.

And it's not what I perceived it to be from my childhood.

The sun sunk back down to the horizon, the last hours when my father would have been making his journey back home with a bucket full of fish in hand. I was beginning to doubt that it was really by dad who had caught all of those fish everyday. My father scanned the area for fish, once again. I couldn't take it anymore, my patience was running low.

"Dad, we've been waiting here forever and there's no fish here. Can we go somewhere else?" I whined.

"It's only been 15 minutes," He said bitterly. I shrugged, it felt like an hour. I wanted to find fish now. Now.

"Don't worry, the fish will come," he said calmly. "Fishing is a lot like life, Finn; the best things are worth waiting for. You just have to be patient." Sure, it's easy for him to say, I thought to myself.

I didn't want this speech right now; all I wanted was to catch fish. I rolled my head back and drop my body into the shallow water, bending my knees and sinking my shoulders until they are submerged.

"What you don't believe me?" he questioned.

"I get the lesson Dad," I snapped, "you wait around, doing nothing, and good things will happen. Can we go now?"

I immediately regretted my words.

"Finnick, stand up." His voice was calm, but sometimes that can be more frightening than when he's yelling. He pointed out to the ripples in the water that were caused by my fast movements. "Every movement you make sends out signals out to everything around you, censoring not only your location, but your intentions."

"So what am I supposed to do? Stop breathing?" I sarcastically snorted.

"It's not about stopping but controlling, watch." He closed his eyes and his muscles tense. This is his way of teaching me; it isn't fun. But knowing there is an end to his lesson, I shut my eyes and mimicked his body.

Moments later, his hand softly pressed on my shoulder, it caught me off guard, I didn't expect him to end his example so quickly. Maybe he found a fish, or decided we should go to another area. His finger raised to his lips, signaling to stay quiet. Hope flooded through me; he's spotted something. His hand then traveled to the water, pointing to a small shadow of a fish. I lift the net in my hands up to my chest while mouthing the words, "should I toss?" My father nodded his head as he raised his trident.

I threw my arms out and released the net. The net obscured my vision, not allowing me see the fish anymore. My father must have been able to see it, because he stabbed the water with his trident. Plucking the spear out of the water, he lifted it up to my face to see. The spear head had ripped through the side of the fish's body. The fish was instantly dead.

We caught more fish and my father began to head home. But one question still puzzled me. While walking up to shore, I asked, "But why use the net, Dad? I thought you could have speared them with your trident. That's what lots of guys do! They don't trap them first."

He turned to me and said, "That is the arrogant man's way. Men who show off, draw attention, who thinks themselves as valuable, those men soon grow careless. And then they make mistakes. And when they do they will go hungry. But we son, will not go hungry." He trudges through the water again up to shore, but I didn't follow. I didn't want to go back home yet. "Are you coming?"

"Nah, I'll stay here," I say while shaking my head. I wanted to practice. He left and I stood back out in the water and closed my eyes again.

The water was still, I picked out every sound I could: a seagull, the soft waves on the shore.

A girl's scream ripped through the air, followed by a splash. This made my body flinch in surprise. I hurled my spear and net into the water and followed where my ears led me. When the water reached my waist, I bent down and began to swim freestyle. My legs pumped through the water until they brought me past piers and docks to a body that thrashed against the rough summer waves, barely floating. The girl had fallen into the water, not too far away from a dock, she must have leaned over too far.

It was odd because this was District Four. Everyone knew how to swim, at least I had thought.

I swept the girl in my arms and swam towards the shore. I judged she was about nine years old, a year younger than myself. Her body collected sand as I dragged her across the beach, away from the water.

When I let go of her waist, her body collapsed to the floor, unmoving. Her chest laid still. I ran my fingers across her lips for any breath and found not a single flutter of warmth. Laying my ear against her heart, I found it was as silent as a vampire's chest. I bent over her body, reciting what I had been taught to do in class. I pinched her nostrils, then tilted her head back. I warily pressed my mouth to hers and blew with force.

No movement came from the body. My head spun with warmth after blowing. Terrified, for a brief moment I believed maybe I was too late and I had mistaken the body's thrashing around in the water for being tossed by the waves. I threw my arms to her chest, pressed my hands above her heart, and pumped urgently. Her lips hadn't moved voluntarily. Second by second I was beginning to feel horrified. I had never seen a dead person before, besides the dead tributes every year from the hunger games. But this girl was younger than myself, too young to be reaped, too you to die.

I returned to her head and pressed my lips to hers and blew another time. My body was trembling with fear. I sat back and shook with heavy breaths. Was she dead? Tears started to spill over onto my cheeks. Please God, I prayed, save this girl.

Her chest began to rise and fall thirty seconds later. Her body jars forwards, spitting up water. Relief flooded through me. I sat back until I was able catch my own breath. Through deep breaths I asked her "Are you alright?" She nodded,struggling to catch her own breath. "What's your name?" I asked slowly.

Hoarsely she breathed out, looking down at the floor and pulling a strand of hair away from her eyes. She spoke in the very lightest voice, a voice I would never forget. "Annie."

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For those of you that are reading this from the link from my Instagram page, feel free to hit the arrow to go to the next chapter, there is much more to the story. That was just foreshadowing. Hoped you liked it:)

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Edited 7/6/14