The Hunger Games: Wroetostar, Merome, Pooflan & Minizerk

⫷Chapter 1⫸

Lachlan's P.O.V.

"Lachlan Power."

There was a silence as thick as treacle after my name was called and all eyes fell on me. I was struggling to breathe; I was completely unable to speak as my name bounced around inside my head. Was this how previous tributes felt? Was this how the girl who had just walked up to the stage had felt, Blaire I think her name was.

My shoulders shook as I stepped out from the crowd and walked towards the stage, trying to appear stoic even though I knew my mask was flickering. I didn't want to be marked as a weakling, an easy target, someone who could be picked off early.

Effie Trinket, the eccentric lady from the Capitol who came to District 12 each year to read the names of the tributes, seized me by my shoulders and steered me to the centre of the stage, placing me beside the girl tribute. She was older than me, at least 17. In the crowd I could still hear the unhappy whispers that came with a younger tribute being chosen- I was only 14.

I didn't listen as the mayor ran off the Treaty of Treason with a low and dreary voice and only caught myself when he motioned for Blaire and me to shake hands. Her hands were shaking but she looked steely and prepared, ready for what the games would throw our way.

I already knew she was aiming to win. She was aiming to kill me.

The anthem of Panem played and I was ushered by Peacekeepers into the Justice building for our families to come and say goodbye. I had my sisters, one younger and one older, my younger brother and my father. My mother was long dead. We had basically raised ourselves, but they were the only people I knew would visit.

"Lachlan!" My little brother and sister threw themselves at me and I scooped them up in my arms, breathing in their scent. I wanted to remember them. My older sister stood back, tears in her eyes.

"Lachy, please don't go!" My little sister pleaded, staring up me. She was only 9 years old and didn't fully understand what was happening, what I was about to go through.

"I don't have a choice." I whispered, holding her tight. "I love you." I said the same to my brother, who was so wide eyed and scared because he knew what was happening. This had been his first year of having his name in that ball- just once because I had refused to let him take any tesserae- and now I was going.

"Lachlan?" My older sister said, holding something out to me. "Take it. Please. Have something to remember us by."

Before she even opened her hand I knew what she was giving to me.

"No." I mumbled. "I can't take it. It's your only possession."

What she handed to me was her necklace, the only thing any of us had from our mother. It was a simple silver chain, no pendant, but it had more sentimental value than anything else.

"Take it, please. We'll- we'll get it back." I knew what she was talking about. Even if I died, and the chances were high because the odds were never in my favour, they would get the necklace back along with my body in a small wooden box.

I took it. I turned to my father.

"Don't let them watch it. Please." I gestured to my younger siblings and he nodded, as stoic as always. But I could see the emotion flickering just below the surface. "Look after them."

I could see the Peacekeepers in the doorway, one tapping his wrist. I was out of time.

"I love you." I whispered. "I love you all."

When my father lifted my sister from my arms she started to scream, fighting against him to get back to me and I wanted to scream too because I didn't want that to be the last memory of her. My older sister took my brother and he started crying as well, reaching out for me over her shoulder.

"I love you." I whispered, one tear creeping down my cheek. "I love you."

Vikk's P.O.V.

"And may the odds be ever in your favour." I muttered along with the man in his high pitched Capitol accent. It was so easy to make fun of but standing amongst a group of every other young boy from District 11, it wasn't so easy. In the glass ball on the stage, filled with thousands of slips of paper, twelve of them had Vikram Barn written on them. It was 14, so three automatic entries, and three times over for tesserae for myself, my brother and my mother.

The girls name was drawn first, as it was every year.

"Cleo Brady." The girl was about 17, maybe 18, and when she walked she visibly lurched, clearly in shock. There was a low round of applause, but no one was excited. Everyone only came to the square because it was required, they wouldn't hesitate to shoot you. This was District 11.

Then the boys name was drawn. I held my breath as the man dug around in the glass ball and came out with one slip of paper and in his high, breathy voice, he read-

"Vikram Barn." I almost fainted but someone's arm steadied me, the man on the stage looking around for me. Someone pushed me forward and I stumbled, but managed to stay on my feet for long enough to get to the stage.

There was the speech from the mayor, the anthem and the shaking of hands and then we, the tributes, were ushered from the stage into the town hall. The second I was left alone in a room I collapsed to my knees, my chest heaving with sobs.

I already knew there was no way I could win. I was 14, tiny and so skinny that I had a lot of comments that I looked like I was about to snap. I was up against people who had likely trained since childhood, especially if they were from the career districts.

Saying goodbye to my family was painful, especially since they knew I wasn't going to come home. My brother was 18 and that was his last year with his name in, only for me to have my name pulled. I at least knew they would be alright with my mother and brothers incomes, they could feed two mouths on their own.

My mother was crying, but I expected that. She had lost her husband, my father, and now she was about to lose one of her sons as well. Before she left she reached up to her ear and handed me a tiny gold hoop earring- my father had been wearing the other one when he died. My ears were already pierced and I accepted it without a word, knowing how much it would mean to her.

My brother cupped my face in his hand, his eyes, which were almost identical to my own, staring right into my soul.

"Don't give up yet Vikk. You can survive, you know you can."

But I couldn't lie to myself. I knew I had no hope of winning and as I stood at the window of the train, Cleo having already locked herself in her room, and I thought. If I even wanted a chance I needed allies, but I had no idea who to ally with. I was from district 11 after all, and no one wanted an ally who would be a liability. Which I was.

I buried my head in my arms and sank to my knees again, painfully aware of death that was looming.

I had no hope.