The third Quarter Quell

Chapter One

 I stand at the edge of District 12, taking in the breathtaking sight of the meadow, full of butterflies and nature. I'd hidden a basket of dandelions and greens under a bush off to the side of the meadow. It had taken around four hours to get enough for my entire family, which included three cousins, four siblings and four adults. My father and his two brothers work in the coal mines, and my aunt runs a shop down at the market where she sells bits and bobs. It's still not enough for us, and I'm the oldest of us all.

I have to hunt because of this, and I'm one of the only ones who venture into the woods when it is not being picked clean of apples.

Katniss Everdeen and her friend , Gale, are known all around for their hunting, however I only hunt for my family, and I never have enough to trade. We barely scrape by, and it's often left with nights where I have to give my portions to the younger ones. That's why I have to be more careful about it, since I do nothing to help any of the officials, I am more at risk of being shot for treason. And I'm the person keeping my family alive.

I sigh softly and crouch down to get beneath the fence. I follow the almost invisible trails to the small lake and stab fish, ten in total. That's not enough, but it will have to do. I go to the strawberries that Katniss and her friend have covered in mesh and pick half of them, never the ones in plain sight though. I don't want to be told I am a thief.

I walk back to the basket I hid and grab it, and then run back home.

It was the seventy-fifth hunger games. The third quarter quell. None of us are aware of the twist to the games just yet, we will be made aware of the reaping, before the bowls are brought out. However, we do know that one of the twists is that the ages for eligibility have been altered to thirteen to twenty. The fear of the older ones who thought they were safe was haunting, and I don't think I ever want to see it again.

I walk into the house and plonk it all down on the table, and my aunt starts to deal with it all. She tells me to scurry along and get changed into something pretty. I don't think I have something pretty. I scramble into the tub she has set up for me full of ice cold water. One of these days I'm going to die from the cold, and I think I'll be relieved when it happens.

I sigh softly, and get out of the tub and pull on some underwear. For my age, -which is thirteen- I look tall. I'm not, but I have quite long features, including my arms and legs. I'm 5'3 , but from a distance I could easily be perceived as 5' 6. I also look old for my age, I look to be around fourteen, and on some days fifteen. I think it's because of the fact I need a bra, and I have a lot of maturity for most people my age.

I sigh, and change into my reaping dress. It's a white, off shoulder dress. It has a frilled, shirred waist and puff sleeves.It stops just above my knees. I gave my nice shoes to my younger sister - Daisy - so I wear black pumps.

I look in the mirror, I have the black, raven hair of the seam. However, instead of the usual grey eyes that indicate I'm from the seam, I have bright, vivid green ones. I have soft features, but the hollowness of my cheeks makes my cheekbones look exceptionally sharp. I lather my chapped lips in what seems to be lip balm - I don't know how my aunt could afford this. I brush through my hair, and tie it up in a high bun, with strands falling out, framing my face. I can not deny that I look beautiful, I also can't deny that I have an insane gut feeling that I'm going to be picked.

And I don't know what the twist is, so I get my younger sister - Daisy - and start unassumingly telling her about the meadow and its greens and food. And the blackberry bushes that hide one of the entrances to the woods. She listens, entranced.

My name is going in the pot an insane amount for a thirteen year old. Twenty six times. Somehow, I know that this is going to be my last day in district twelve.

My stomach is tied in knots, and I feel a clog deep in my throat.

We walk to the town centre and make our way to our sections, me being separated from my family. My sister Daisy is eligible next year. I fear the worst because of it. What if she is already dead by then?

Don't think that Feebee. I look at Effie trinket, up on the podium with the mayor, Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Katniss and Peeta are together, in some way or another. And Haymitch and Effie seem to be good friends now, unlike last year when he practically molested her in a drunken stupor.

I've realised that Haymitch is not completely drunk this time around, and I remember he stayed slightly sober for the entirety of the games last year.

The mayor comes to the podium and reads out everything mandatory, as I fiddle with my necklace - a silver chain and a little initials, A.R, for my mother and her family who died in the mine explosion that took out half of the miners.

Effie Trinket comes up, as bubbly as ever, though slight sadness in her eyes. I know it's because she now feels an emotional connection to this district, and its victors.

She gets a small white envelope out of her pocket.

"This is the third quarter quell, and as stated in the founding of The Hunger Games, there is a twist," She opens the envelope and begins reading, getting slightly paler as she continues to recite the words written. "For the third quarter quell, every name is put in one reaping bowl for that district. How many names pulled out is how victors this district has had. There is allowed to be as many winners as the district with the least number of victors in all of the seventy four previous games. No volunteers are permitted."

Silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

Seventy five tributes. Four victors.

Four tributes from this district. And it could be male or female ones.

And the ages are from thirteen to twenty.

I look at the mentors' faces and see horror in all of their eyes. I know I should be sad for them, that they are mentoring kids for slaughter, but I can't help but be slightly mad that the horror in their eyes are not for the tributes, but for themselves. One massive glass bowl is brought out, with twenty six slips reading out my name. It's not a lot compared to some, but I'm still absolutely mortified at the instinct that one of these slips is going to read, 'Feebee Rosethorne'.

Effie settles herself , unlike the crowd, and pulls out the first name.

" Wade Seatree." The crowd parts for a boy, around eighteen years of age. Brown hair, blue eyes. Tall, with broad shoulders. Not necessarily strong, but I'm sure he has a very good chance to win if he gorges on protein.

"Orion Gallo. " Again, the crowd parts. This boy is not as tall, of average build. He has pasty skin, and small brown eyes. He mounts the stage and stands on the left side of Effie, next to Wade.

" Haldin Green." Yet another man, around sixteen years of age. Light brown skin and gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. He's the butcher's nephew. He's tall, but not as tall as Wade or Orion.

"And finally..." Effie says picking up another slip. "Feebee Rosethorne."