The Reaping

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The willow tree outside Hebe's window shielded her from the morning light that threatened to rouse her from the peaceful doze she found herself indulging in. The dappled glow that managed to penetrate the leaves of her protector and fall across her tan skin warmed her face and caused a sleepy smile to spread across it. In her state of semi-consciousness she could vaguely register the soothing rustle of a light breeze through the willow tree and the scent of the sea wafting its way in through her window. Hebe felt herself finally wake fully, basking in the bliss of the spring sun and the promise of a new day. Then the crash of realisation, the waves of nausea as she understood what kind of promise this new day held.

She groaned before grabbing her alarm clock and checking the time, 6:29. She had to get up, no more time could be wasted on her dozing. Deciding to just get it over with, she ripped the duvet off her body and stood up, shivering now that she had left the warm cocoon of her bed. Hebe padded over to her desk, switching on her lamp and grabbing a bundle of her clothes before departing to the bathroom.

She emerged only twenty minutes later, fully decked out in the old joggers and t-shirt she wore for her runs and morning workouts, coily hair casually tied in a ponytail. She tiptoed quietly through her home, carefully avoiding the steps that creaked and the floorboards that groaned under the weight of anything heavier than a paper bag. She then reached the front door and tried to open it as quietly as possible, it was not as easy as it used to be, her house was almost as old as Panem itself and her door had swelled with the moisture from the spring monsoon season. Despite all this secrecy Hebe knew that her mother wouldn't be roused by anything short of a riot. Father had always said she could sleep through the dark days and now more than ever that fact seemed to be true. She shook her head to push these thoughts away and embarked on her run.

Running seemed to be the one thing that always cleared Hebe's head, the pounding of her feet against the pavement, the burn of her muscles and harsh intakes of breath created a rhythm that soothed her into a daydream, a melody to distract her from the cacophony of stresses that filled her young life. Her route was a 5 km, weaving its way through the heart of District 4, through the suburbs where she has dwelled all her life, past the justice building and through the market, before looping around the docks and returning her to her home via the beach and past perhaps the most important landmark, Victor's village.

She slowed everytime she passed it, straining to admire the white facades and slated roofs, the statue of a sea god wielding his trident as he raced on his chariot. Hebe had an undeniable amount of respect and admiration for the victors, as did everyone else in District 4. After all, it was a career district, and they were taught from birth what an honour it was to even compete in the games, it was possibly the greatest thing you could do. However Hebe didn't stop to admire her favourite victors, she wasn't waiting by the gate every morning hoping to catch a glimpse of one. She wasn't like one of those Capitol imbeciles that treated victors like zoo animals or possessions to be won. Rather she chose to pass Victor's village on her runs in order to remind her what she was aspiring too. And why it was so important.

A year and a half ago, Hebe's father didn't return from the docks as normal. He had returned from sea as normal, bid goodbye to the other men at the docks and departed home. Somewhere along the way he was attacked by a group of junkies, looking for someone to rob to feed their morphling addiction. He tried to stop them; he had just received his pay and they weren't exactly well off at the time, but they pulled out a knife and killed him. His body was found three days later in a ditch. It destroyed her mother, she had pretty much hid herself in her room ever since.

Fathers pension hadn't lasted long and Hebe was forced to pick up the slack. She took extra shifts at her aunt's cafe and started working at the docks. It kept them afloat but she didn't know how much longer she could keep it up. That's when Hebe had the idea. If she won the hunger games, then she could provide for her and her mother for the rest of her life without issue. She had always been good at the academy but nowhere near exceptional. She hadn't seen much reason in putting in the extra effort when she was younger, after all, why would she ever need to volunteer? How things change.

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