❖ Book 2 of 3 ❖
【 Slow burn fanfic 】
║ Catching Fire Reimagined║
It's the year of the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Isla Dunne, victor of the 73rd Hunger Games, can tell something is off after last year's games. They had tipped the scales, thanks to the...
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FINNICK GENTLY ROUSED the sleeping girl, moving her blonde locks out of her face. "It's the big day." He says, referencing the announcement of the Quarter Quell. President Snow would be addressing the entire country in just a few hours, revealing this year's special event.
"I really don't want to know what it is." Isla clutches her silk sheets like a scared child as she speaks.
"We need to prepare, you need to know so that we can be ready. It's for them, not for us." His words are too true to ignore. Isla had to put her big girl pants on and accept the fact that no matter what she wanted, it really didn't matter. She was a mentor now, and had to be strong for her tributes. No matter how weak she felt.
"Alright." She sighs, rising out of bed. She combs through her wavy hair, but doesn't bother to dress for the difficult day ahead. Whatever the President announced today, she knew it wouldn't be easy to digest.
The three victor's ate breakfast together. Annie had started to occasionally join them recently, but it was clear that today was a day that she needed to be with her family. It would be triggering to see President Snow on screen, and even worse to hear of his sinister plans for this year's Hunger Games.
"You watched both Quarter Quells, didn't you, Mags?" Isla asks. She knows the answer, Mags had won the Eleventh Hunger Games. The woman would have mentored the tributes in both of the Quells.
Mags nods, a solemn look on her face. She signs that they were terrible, and she could go the rest of her life without having to see another. She was dreading the day just as much as the rest of them were. Isla felt sympathy for the poor woman, she'd seen so much death since her games. How could she be so kind and caring after years of watching such awful things happen?
There was no one in the world she admired for their strength more than Mags, she thought. The victor had been through so much, seen so much, and still she was as strong as ever. Maybe not physically, due to her age, but not one of the victors that Isla had met could compete with the woman's brave heart. She was truly remarkable, and no one deserved a large house on the beach, where she could garden and live in peace, more than Mags did.
Finnick attempted to keep Isla occupied by teaching her some sort of game that involved small makeshift game pieces and some dice. Isla was sure she was actually winning when the television to her left flicked on without warning. The Capitol anthem blared loudly, and Mags' expression turned sour as she covered her ears.
"Greetings." President Snows voice boomed into the microphone as he stood behind is signature mahogany podium. A single envelope sat on the top of it.
