Tribute X

by warriorcatlover 1/30/2010, 9:45 pm

Based upon Suzanne Collin's work of fiction, The Hunger Games. I highly recommend this book, by the way. It almost made me cry.

Claim: I do not own any of Suzanne Collins' characters in here (there may only be one, but I just want to make a statement of that.) Azalea, Felix, Remus, etc. are all my own. Nor am I Suzanne Collins. (Though I could wish I was.)

Note: Her home district is now 9. (Previously District 7) Yeah.. sorry about that folks! I got those two mixed up in terms of specialties! XD

Tribute X

1
Lies

“So how do you feel?” This was a wretched question. It wasn’t that she didn’t have an answer; it was more a feeling that she didn’t feel comfortable saying it while this was broadcasted live.
“To be honest, I’m not sure how I feel…” she began with a lie. “It’s something I can’t read, which amazes me.” The audience laughed. “I guess only time can tell. I’m afraid I’m not sure right now.” She knew it was good to leave it off like that.
“Really? No… pride, or sorrow, grief? I mean, you’ve just won the 99th Hunger Games. Don’t you feel something?” She knew he wasn’t lying about that. She had won, and she did feel something. She knew its name. But she obviously didn’t say it. “I never said I felt nothing. I guess it’s a mix of all that. I can describe it as overwhelming at least.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to miss all those I’ve been with throughout the games, and I’ll be glad that I’ll never see this place again. No offense.”
The audience laughed again, as did the man who was interviewing. His name was Remus Flickerman, conveniently the son of the previous interviewer. His hair was a fiery red at the ends, like it had recently been lit aflame, and his suit glittered the same color. (His hair was naturally a dark brown.) And he was just as charming as his father had been for the cameras.
“None taken. I assume after all this corruption you want to go back to your normal life, eh?” There was no doubt that’s what she wanted. But she knew that was exactly what she would never get. You couldn’t have a normal life after you were a tribute to the Hunger Games.
“Oh, most definitely.” She leaned back into the couch and rested her hands behind her head.
“What are you going to do first?” Remus asked with curiosity in his tone. He leaned forwards, placing his elbows on his knees.
“I’m going to sit back like this and try to forget you people.” She smirked. Once again the audience roared with laughter. They don’t take anything seriously, do they?
“Honestly, I just want to go home and dive into a deep pool of clear water, without having to worry that there’s someone behind my back wanting to kill me.” Her fire-orange eyes gleamed with lost longing. “It’s the one place I can think really. It’s the one place where I can trace back my memories and get lost in the past.” Her tone was sincere and soft.
Remus smiled. “That’s a beautiful thought, Azalea. How about a round of applause for our brilliant young lady?” The crowd howled and cheered with a thunderous applause. Azalea wondered how many of them really liked her. “You’ve been through a lot, Azalea. And if it’s what you want, I hope we never see you again either.” The crowd laughed. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She flashed a grin and sat straight again in her dress. It was meant to resemble the flower she was named after, Azalea, the white kind. At the tips it faded to orange though, and the body portion was a pure white. It only reached to her knees, and it frilled out like petals at the ends. She wore white slip-ons too; she never liked heels. Azalea told her stylist she was a runner, not some fashion model who loved to kill their ankles.
“And that’s our lovely Azalea Fellin. A final applause, if you will!” Everyone in the crowd rose to their feet, and from what she could see, most of them were cheering and hooting. Azalea flashed one more friendly grin for them as the cameras shut down and the lights flickered off. She didn’t change her countenance after they went off either. She knew there were going to be more people waiting, waiting to talk to her and ask her more questions. It was going to be an endless torture.
“Hey, great job up there, if I’d say so, myself.” Remus’ silky voice whispered into her ear behind her. “The crowd loves you.”
“Yeah, well…” Azalea smiled and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. She ran her fingers through her dark brown hair. It had been curled at the ends, another courtesy of her stylist. “They’ll grow to love a lot of people. I certainly won’t be the last tribute, at this rate.”
Remus’ coat sparkled even though the darkness and his eyes glowed too, a soft periwinkle she had observed early on. He smirked, showing his pearly white teeth. “That is true. But certainly you’ll be among their favourites.” He fixed his collar and led her out. She was slightly confused when she realized there weren’t any obnoxious crowds of people, or flashing lights. It was a long glass hallway, which had a good view of the Capitol that led to the room that she was going to be in for only one more day. “Where are we going?”
“I’m leading you the long way around, so you can avoid the crowds. I know you have a distaste for the interviewers. And the cameras.” He grinned.
Azalea didn’t want to make him feel that way. “You’re not like them. You won’t stalk me all the way back to District 9.” District 9, her home, and a place she couldn’t wait to get back to, in a way. But she knew it would never really feel like home again, no matter how hard she thought.
A laugh broke from Remus’ lips. “Aye, I won’t be doing that. I’ve got matters to attend to here. I’ll leave that job for the others.”
“Meanie.” She teased as they walked through a door, leading them into a large red room. The walls had gold patters swirling up from the bottom, and trying to reach for the top. The furniture lining was gold too, but the wood was a mahogany. Waiting at a mirror was her stylist, a young man, whose skin was tanned a little and his hair was a jet black. It was tinged golden at the ends, like Remus’ hair was; only it was pulled back. He wore a simple tan t-shirt, worn out jeans and black sneakers. He seemed like no special stylist. But whoever thought that was quickly proven wrong. He smirked as they entered.
“Finally, Remus, I thought you were just going to annoy me and take her through the interview crowds.”
“I could have, if I wanted to, Felix. But I decided I’d rather not get this nice suit dirty. Thanks, by the way, for having it made. It’s lovely.” His grin was slightly mischievous.
“Aye, no problem.” He had a long stride as he walked over to the two of them. He threw a small sack of money to Remus. “And thank you.” He nodded curtly. So this wasn’t a matter of kindness, it was just because he was being paid.
Remus caught it in midair and it disappeared into the coat. Then he nodded curtly back and raised his hand in a farewell salute. “See ya, Felix. And you too, Azalea. Don’t worry, we’ll meet again soon. At your victory tour, remember?”
Inwardly, she cursed. No, she hadn’t forgotten, she just didn’t want to be reminded. “Aye, let’s not rush it now.” She let her countenance remain calm and smooth. Remus left the glorious room laughing.
The moment the door slammed behind Remus, a frown broke Felix’s face, replacing the smug smirk that only existed a few moments ago. He turned his gaze onto Azalea and tugged at her shoulder, forcing her to sit down. She fell into a sitting position on to the fluffy red couch. “Alright, what’s going on here?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s going on here’? Between me and Remus? Nothing, that guy just annoys the heck out of me.” Not completely true, but just to prove a point. Felix shoved his palm into her shoulder. “You know darn well that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what the heck did you mean? I’m not a mind reader, Felix!” Azalea raised her voice. Not yet. A dark, smooth voice said calmly in the back of her mind. Her eyes flared, really looking like fire now, showing the kind of anger when you have no idea what’s going on.
“I’m talking about your strategy; and how you act so calmly about it in front of the cameras!” he tried to lower his voice; it was a failed attempt. “I knew you were intelligent, Lea, but I didn’t realize you were a sly fox.” He spat at the end, as if there was nightshade on his tongue. That pair of chocolate brown eyes were filled of rage; but that was only a veil to the real betrayal he felt inside. Though he knew the betrayal wasn’t his.
“I’m not a sly fox!” she exclaimed in outrage. “I was trying to stay alive! Like everyone else was out there. And my odds were low from the beginning…”
“Oh yeah, sure. Miss ‘I got rated a three, but I managed to kill about a dozen or more tributes in cold blood’. Sure your odds were really low.” Felix’s was pressing his lips together, even after all the blood had left them. He turned his back to her, questioning why he was even talking to her right now. He wanted to know if she had planned it all from the beginning. He wanted to know why she did what she did, and if she was really thinking about them, or her victory. But all his thoughts only managed to come out as one question. “What were you thinking… when they called your name?”
Azalea’s gaze went soft. The fire had waned in her eyes. She knew she didn’t want to remember that. But there were plenty of things about it she was going to remember. Slowly, her mind swirled back into that time, which seemed so long ago. All the pictures flashed before her eyes, as if she was there once more. Back to the time before she truly knew fear. Fear and death.

by **rattyjol** 1/30/2010, 10:36 pm

-meep- MORE.

May I make one suggestion, though? Because of what happened at the end of Catching Fire, I would suggest maybe changing it so that it happened before the books, rather than after. nod

Just my opinion. If you need stuff that happened in the books for a plot or whatever, feel free to ignore me. grin

by **LuckyPenny666** 1/30/2010, 10:56 pm

This is AMAZING! I hope you post more soon!

by warriorcatlover 1/31/2010, 6:02 pm

(Thanks so far for the comments guys!!)

To ratty:
Spoiler:

Sorry this chapter is boring. I had to dedicate one to describing the family a little bit. The next one will be better.

2
Before Disaster

It was a pretty bleak morning, in her opinion. The sky was a very dull gray-blue and there were storm clouds heading for the direction of District 9. The sun was bright, but it was also blinding. It hurt her eyes too much. She was resting on the side of the old wooden house, with her upper back supporting her. Her knees were bent and her arms were folded over her chest. She inhaled the musty air and yawned. Must have fallen asleep outside again. Azalea thought. She shook her head to start her mind and looked down at her clothes.
She was still wearing the ‘holey’ jeans (her only pair) which were filthy from the mud bath she was given yesterday, courtesy of some kids at school she really disliked. She was wearing a forest green zip up hoodie; which was big on her and the sleeves had been cut off to the elbow before she received it. And she wore her necklace, the only one she ever dared to wear. The beads were made of wood, from some distant land she knew not of the name, and at the end was a peach stone, shaped like the tooth of a lion. Her grandfather had given it to her, the day before his death. Just to prevent it from being stolen or broken, she told the other kids that there was a curse on it; the last kid who tried disappeared. (There was conveniently a kid who went missing only a few months before.)
As she rose she cracked her neck, exposing it to the sunlight. Her hair fell back. It wasn’t extremely long; it only went a little past her shoulders. And until about a year ago, she couldn’t keep it straight down.
Azalea stretched her limbs forwards and shut her eyes, trying to think of a peaceful land beyond. It was quite difficult, considering the reaping was tomorrow. The 99th Hunger Games; this was going to be a mess. Nine years ago the Capitol decided to change the rules up, every three years they sent another boy and girl, four total tributes for each district. That made 48 tributes. Fascinating. It just raises everyone’s chances of getting in higher. She guessed they had decided that because the 89th Hunger Games had been so short, even though 24 was still a big number of people to her.
Just as she was about to calculate odds, a warm voice pierced the air. “Azalea!” it called. “Azalea! Where are you!?”
“Right here, mum!” She stretched her arms upwards and walked over the log-pile to meet her mother. She blinked the weariness from her eyes to get a better view. Her mother looked young for those who were her age. Most people said she looked exactly like her mother, save for her eyes. They both shared the same fair skin, round face, close in hair color and length, and Azalea was only about a centimeter shorter than her mother at the time. Only their eyes could let people see the difference. Her mother’s eyes had a rosy, spring-like feeling to them, Azalea’s reminded people of a small summer fire.
“Where were you?” she asked, though not sternly. No, she could never really be stern, even if she tried.
“I fell asleep out by the log pile again.” Azalea rubbed her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Did you finish that homework?” Azalea nodded in reply. When do I not finish it? She was up higher with her grades than most of the kids her age. She wasn’t irresponsible in the slightest. “Good.” Abelia sighed, (that was her mother’s name.) Azalea knew she wouldn’t have to worry about homework tonight. They didn’t get homework the day before they called the tributes. “Did I miss breakfast?”
“Nope, you’re up early. You haven’t missed a thing. Why, are you hungry?” Any other week Azalea would have immediately accepted and her mouth would have watered tremendously. But today, more than any other days earlier in the week, her stomach seemed to have shrunk into a small pit. She wasn’t hungry. She shook her head. “Nah, if I’m early…” she rubbed the back of her head as she walked back into the cozy home with her mother. A small voice in the back of her head was taunting her. You’ll need as much as you can get. Who knows? You could be the next tribute. I mean your odds are higher this year. For now, she decided to ignore it.

“Near the log pile, again?” Luke asked with his mouth full of sweet herbs. Her older brother’s real name was Lucius, but no one called him that. From almost the start, he was known as Luke. Azalea nodded, just staring down at her full plate. She was torturing herself by looking at it. “You’re really weird.”
“I understand that. What’s better than falling asleep with a clear view of the heavens?” Azalea didn’t look up, but a smile broke her face. Good youthful Jasmine. Her younger sister usually backed her up on these kinds of things, she looked up to her. Azalea had taught her a lot of what she knew, and helped her get high grades in school. And Jasmine taught her how to relax and enjoy life sometimes, lay back and not think; (which was a very difficult thing to do for a person like Azalea.)
“I can tell you.” Luke said, pointing a bent fork at Jasmine. “Not getting chosen as a tribute, and second helpings.” He lifted up his plate. “Speaking of which, can I?”
“No. There is little left for your father anyway. And don’t speak of that so soon, will you?” Luke loved food. He had grown up around it. And he loved trees, for he had grown up around them too. He also, at the age of 18, had not been picked for the Hunger Games, yet. And it was his last year he could possibly be a tribute. A lot of the neighbors said his chances were high this year though; having the number of tributes raised didn’t make that any better. Jasmine’s chances were higher too, although she was only 12 and a half. Azalea didn’t like thinking about that.
“Fine.” Luke rose to his feet and began the pile of dishes. Then at the door he picked up a burlap sack. “I’m off then. I’ll be back by dinner.” That usually translated to, ‘Save some of supper for me because I probably won’t be back ‘til late’ for Luke. Azalea had lived with him too long to not know. Luke didn’t go to school; he had always liked hunting better. Not that he wasn’t intelligent, or a good strategist, he just preferred a life without boundaries more (less boundaries, considering there had always been boundaries around the Districts.)
Just as the door slammed shut, her father came down the stairs. “Luke’s gone?”
Abelia nodded. “Good then, he didn’t steal my breakfast!” he laughed as he put his hand on Jasmine’s head and the other on Azalea’s shoulder. His name was Brutus. He was a little taller than average height, with brown, graying hair, spectacles and forest green eyes. He had a charming grin too, contributing to what won her mother over years before. He was a pretty humble man, but when he was in the middle of doing something great, you didn’t disturb him. He may have been born and raised in District 9, but he had the heart of one in District 3 or 6. He liked to invent things, without the Capitol’s consent. But rules never stopped him. It puzzled Azalea why a man like him didn’t defy the Capitol in the first place.
“You two excited for tomorrow?” he asked teasingly.
“No way!” Jasmine exclaimed, in a horrified tone.
“Oh most definitely.” Azalea liked to go with her father’s jokes because he was the only one who couldn’t be less serious about the games. And his brother (he had been one of seven) had gone to the Hunger Games when he was only 10.
Abelia slapped him with a dishrag. “Brutus! This is not a joking matter! Especially at the table!” She was worried for all her children; they were all qualified for certain death.
He laughed. “You’re right.” He rose to his feet. “I’m sorry Lia.” He pulled her close and kissed her.
“Aww…” Jasmine crooned. She liked that kind of mushy stuff. Azalea wasn’t one for it, but she watched. Her father held his mother in his arms; she rested her head on his shoulder. Azalea smiled. She was glad her parents were close. These days a lot of couples were bagging each other. She watched for another moment and she saw her father wink in her direction. As smart as she was, she couldn’t interpret the gesture. Was it to keep her secure? Was it for good luck? She wished she knew.
But she was sure of one thing; she wished she could be like him. He was so calm about this mess of the country they called Panem, and all the struggles of life. He could care less about the Hunger Games and the Capitol and the boundaries of the Districts. And he could make anyone else feel secure and determined too. There were no… What’s the right word?... flaws. He didn’t have any flaws about him, none. He was perfect to her. She was proud she was his daughter, but she wanted more. She wished she were him.

by **rattyjol** 1/31/2010, 6:18 pm

Ahh. I get it. nod

Wait, I thought she was in District 7? Or am I remembering it wrong?

Anyway, awesome chapter. Smile

by warriorcatlover 1/31/2010, 6:21 pm

List of Chapters:

1. Lies - Page 1, Post 1
2. Before Disaster- Page 1, Post 4
3. Gamble Hill- Page 1, Post 9

Outside Information:

Panem: the name of the country

The Districts:

Spoiler:

About the Hunger Games:

This is a fight to the death, broadcasted live on TV, and watched by almost everyone.

This started after the destruction of civilization in North America, to prevent disaster.

Every year, a reaping is held in each District. Normally, two candidates or 'tributes' as they are called, are chosen, a boy and a girl, between the ages of 12 and 18.
(Rules are changed in this story. Now every three years another boy and girl are chosen.)

All children between 12 and 18 are required to sign their name in for the reaping. One more is required each year (e.g. 12 has to submit 1, 13 has to submit 2, etc.)

You can sign your name in more than the required number for a month's supply of oil and grain.

The game continues until only one person is left alive. (I would say standing, but that doesn't necessarily has to be true. XD) Two is not allowed. Nor is none.

A former victor (winner) of the Hunger Games for that District will train the future tributes.

(More shall be added to this, when I get more time!! )

by warriorcatlover 1/31/2010, 6:22 pm

Yes sorry about that... There is a note on top of Chapter 1, explaining that. I Mixed up those two for their specialties. XD 7 and 9, I don't know how that happened. XD

by **rattyjol** 1/31/2010, 6:37 pm

Whoa, where did you find out about 2, 6, and 10? o.0

Nice guide, BTW. nod

Ah. xD

by warriorcatlover 2/1/2010, 8:48 pm

3
Gamble Hill

“Alright class, as you know, you’re going to be let out early today because of tomorrow’s reaping; and therefore, homework is unnecessary.” Ms. Cress had said this every year, to all of her students. She had been teaching for about 30 years now. Her graying hair was pulled back in a bun and her glasses were hung over her bent nose.
Some of the kids in Azalea’s class were staring at the only half-working clock that hung on the far side of the room. Some were itching to run out, some were just counting down the minutes until the reaping. No one really liked the actual reaping, but by her age, no one really cared either. But the reaping was why Ms. Cress had never married; she hadn’t wanted to risk the lives of the children. Azalea compared her immensely to her father; one of those people who strongly disliked the Capitol, but for some unknown reason didn’t defy against it.
Azalea’s fire-like eyes watched her teacher intently. She never knew if it was the last she was going to see of her. There was a thin wooden baton in her hands, no one knew why she carried it around, or where she got it from, but without it, she never seemed like Ms. Cress.
“I’m going to say something else you know I say every year. But please believe me when I say every year I mean it more and more truly.” She took a few curt steps forward. “I hate to see when my own students are chosen for this. And I will say if it happens tomorrow it shall not be the first time. And it saddens me so.” Some of the kids were rolling their eyes. Azalea didn’t really like those kinds of kids anyway; the ones who thought life was a big joke, and nothing was wrong with the world. Azalea straightened and folded her hands, one over the other.
“Just to prevent disaster, I think it’s a terrible solution. Entertainment should not come out of watching helpless children die at the hands of their enemies,” she slapped the stick on the desk of a boy, Rossen was his name, who looked like he was falling asleep. His head shot right up; there were a few stifled sneers on the opposite side of the room.“And their allies.” She finished. “Unfortunately, all I can say and do for you all is ‘good luck’ and ‘may the games be in your favor’. I’d rather not see any faces missing from my class anytime soon.”
She shot a glance at the boy in the front, with a toothpick in his mouth and was carving something out of wood. His hair was messy, and he was a very bad person in general. Azalea didn’t see what many of the other girls saw in him. “Yes, even you, Sors.” The class laughed as he looked up. “Aye Ms. C.” Sors, Azalea thought. Minor god of luck. How suiting. She really hoped he was chosen. He was so lazy, he needed something to make him jump and flee. He did have a lot of luck, on terms of not getting caught.
Ms. Cress looked out the dirty window, seeing the sun falling from its peak. “Oh, fly. All of you, go. Out!” No one hesitated; everyone grabbed their things and fled out the door. All except Azalea and her best friend, Silene. Silene was like her; smart, not very social around the other kids, but very true and loyal. She didn’t know what she could do without her. Just as they both were about to take a step out the door, Ms. Cress called their names. They stopped dead in their tracks and spun around. “Yes, Ms. Cress?” they chorused in unison.
A warm, sympathetic smile broke their teacher’s face as she came in front of them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “I want you two to know you are my favorite students.” They both smiled at that. “And should either of you be chosen tomorrow, please understand that I will fall into a deep mourning. Should both of you be chosen, I may just have to give up my teaching job.” Silene laughed at that, but Azalea felt that a part of her may not have been joking. She laughed anyway, but only softly. The elder woman inhaled deeply, as if savoring a final moment, and then embraced the two together. Of course, even though they were 15, they didn’t care.
“Good luck girls; may the moon shine brightly upon your faces.” This had always been something she had said, for she didn’t like saying ‘May the games be in your favor’. Ms. Cress knew only too well that the games were truly in no one’s favor.
“Thank you.” Silene embraced her once more tightly.
“And please understand that you’re our favorite teacher too. If we lose you, we won’t know what to do either.” Azalea spoke on both of their behalves. They heard both Ms. Cress’ laughter and quiet sobs as they left the musty old building.

Most of the kids never went home immediately. They hung out around the small hills nearby the school, doing all sorts of things; fighting, arguing, gossiping, laying down, laughing and chasing each other around in games of ultimate tag. But today, the hills were a place of the gambling. Silene and Azalea tried to steer clear of that. Gambling with the more popular kids was never something one would truly want to do, unless they were stupid, or they were their close friends.
“It’s a solution to those people who want to get poor faster.” Silene said as they passed the first hill, the smallest one of them all. Azalea laughed. “You got that right.” Looking at her friend now, she could say she was the best person she could have ever met. Her skin was darker than hers, a natural tan, with jet black hair, which she always kept nicely back in a ponytail, chocolate brown eyes and pearly white teeth (which Azalea envied her for when they were younger.) She was also the smartest person at their age, though she denied it, and the kindest person she ever met. She never had heard her talk about someone badly ever, and she always kept her promises. She didn’t know how she could manage it all. Azalea considered herself very lucky.
Everything remained normal and calm; they even believe they could pass everything unnoticed, until they reached the eighth hill. From behind, someone had firmly grasped their shoulders. “Hey, wait up, guys!” a hushed hiss passed into their ears. Azalea and Silene both sighed their relief that it was their friend, Hector. In their opinion, he was the only normal guy their age. He didn’t like getting involved in the gambles either, and he was pretty intelligent too.
They split apart a little to give him some room. “Of course.” Silene grinned.
“Man, Sors’ crew was about to chase me down. I need some cover you know?” his threw his arms over his head, as if it were to provide him cover. The girls laughed. “Yeah, we’re trying to steer clear of them too. Honestly, do they think we really want to gamble on who’s bound to die next?”
“Amen.” Hector smirked. He surpassed both of them height wise, his hair was messy and black, and his eyes were a dull green, though they shone.
“But you should.” A haughty voice said beside them. They were at the tenth hill, the largest one, where many of Sors’ gang would race and gamble. Their gazes reluctantly wandered to see its owner, Sors. A charming, mischievous smile had been placed on his face, and the group of guys behind him shared the exact countenance.
It ticked Azalea off, when they took a high authority, like they ruled the place. Roughly, she shoved her bag, into Hector’s hands. She placed her hands on her hips, and stormed in their direction. “Ooh, looks like you’ve got a taker, Sors.” One of them sneered. Azalea scowled at the boy. “I’d like to know why we should.” Her gaze shot back to Sors.
“Because everyone does. And if you won’t accept that answer, it’s preparation. It’s better to be more aware of your odds. So the shock doesn’t come up so… petrifying.” She narrowed her eyes. She was surprised that word was even his vocabulary.
“That’s a terrible reason anyway.” she growled back.
Sors reached into his pocket and pulled out a sack of coins. “Come on, you know you want to. I know one of your lifelong dreams is to see me killed in the Hunger Games.” Azalea took that as a challenge.
Silene and Hector looked fearfully for their friend as she looked back towards them. I know I really shouldn’t do this… When she averted her gaze once more back to Sors, she ripped the sack out of his hands. “It’s not one of my lifelong dreams. It is my lifelong dream.” She threw her hair back and headed up the hill. “Looks like we’ve got a taker, boys.” He said victoriously, and pursued her up the hill, like a mass of hunting dogs.
Silene and Hector exchanged a wary glance. They both thought the same thing. We need to support her. Without another second wasted, they raced up the hill after all of them.

“Welcome, first-timers, to the Gambling Hill of Sors. I’m your host, yours truly, Sors. Duh.” The gang smirked. “Dare to bet at your own risk. You can bet pretty much anything. Money is most common, but we always like to make this game more… interesting.” The grin on his face was pixie-like and malicious now.
They all sat with their legs crossed, not in a circle but with two sides. Those were clear; one side for Sors and his gang and another for the opposing team. (There was also a side where the spectators stood, but Azalea put that out of her head.) The sun was sinking into the horizon. “Alright, usually we’re pretty nice about this, and we let you guys bet first.” Usually?
“But today, we decided since we you got to the top first, we should get to bet first, eh? Sound like a deal?” Silene was narrowing her eyes right now, as she sat on one side of her friend. Hector was seated on the other side, his eyes full of hatred for the team that faced him. I’m so fortunate. Azalea shrugged. “Very well.”
Sors’ vibrant blue eyes jumped from her, to Silene, to Hector while he determined the bets and odds. When he was finished, he lifted his chin and started a small pile of coins. “For your guy friend over there.” Three of his posse threw in a few coins into that pile as well. The rest just watched intently. Good, Azalea thought. They don’t think his chances are high in getting into the games.
His next pile was for her. The entire horde; save for two of them, built up the pile, a larger amount of coins, a lighter and some loaves of bread. Sors himself didn’t bet anything. “You know, I would bet on you… but your odds confuse me. Really and truly they do.” He smiled. As if that was a compliment.
And she knew the last pile was for Silene. “And for the songbird over here.” He winked and grinned widely towards her. Silene returned that with a scowl, she curled her lip. He put his hand to his chin, pondering for another moment. This final smile was dark, evil almost. He took a large sack of coins from his shirt and threw it into the pile. Then he took out two lighters, and, worst of all, he placed his best hunting knife into the pile. He didn’t say another word. Everyone on his side placed their bets in the pile too. Even some from the spectators’ side threw some in.
Azalea couldn’t think of a worse insult. They had high thoughts that Silene was going to be one of the next tributes. And with that, she knew they thought she probably wouldn’t survive. That burden was what Sors put in her own pile, not nothing.
In utter rage as they laughed, she threw three-quarters of her weekly salary in a new pile, her own hunting knife, a silver trap spike and her necklace, the one she couldn’t dare be parted with. She lifted her chin up, angrily. “That’s for your right-hand man there.” She knew his name, it was Derek. He was a tall boy, with really short, dirty-blond hair, dark brown eyes and a slight unnatural tan. She had liked him at one point; now she could never understand why. And she knew his odds were high. They were high every year; he was one of six children, and with his father working almost full-time, he was the man of the house. He had a lot to support.
Of course, this ticked Sors off. He knew as much as she did about that, and he wouldn’t deny it. Derek was his closest ally as Silene was hers. She left a pile for Sors himself. Hector actually threw in his hunter bag and a few coins for that one. Some spectators joined that bet, daringly. “I would bet on you, but your odds confuse me, really and truly they do.” Azalea said with a mocking tone, making Silene and Hector smirk.
Sors narrowed his gaze. “I thought you said that necklace was ‘cursed’.” He made the gesture with his fingers.
“It still is. Oh don’t worry.” She grinned. “It won’t curse you. Yet.” Sors pressed his lips together until there was no blood left in them and tightened his jaw. A swift hand swept the bets off the ground and into his arms. “Anything else?”
“Nope.” Azalea rose contently, after she took a hold of the bets for her side.
“Then we’ll be seeing you tomorrow at the reaping,” Sors replaced the scowl with a smug smirk. “Azalea…”
There was no hesitation in his step. The rest of the crowd followed him like a flock of sheep, like the looming storm clouds. Azalea, Silene and Hector remained at the top, looking down victoriously, even though they couldn’t be sure of that until tomorrow. Once the ‘posse’ was out of sight Azalea spun around and embraced her friends tightly. “Thanks for sticking by me, guys.”
Hector and Silene embraced her back. “No problem, Lea.” Hector smiled.
“Why wouldn’t we stick by you?” Silene strengthened her grip.
After a few more thanks and farewells, they made their way down the hill, Hector parting from the girls to reach his own home. Silene looked back as his figure disappeared into the forest that existed behind the hills. “Azalea?”
“Yeah, Silene?” Azalea looked at her with wide eyes.
“Thanks,” She looked down, and said sheepishly. “For having my back over there. But you didn’t have to, you know. Everyone knows my odds are high.”
One arm wrapped around Silene’s shoulder, with a friendly passion. “Silene, I would never forgive myself if I didn’t back you up. And there could never be a reason that I wouldn’t. I don’t give a darn what they say. You are ten times better than all of them. I’ll willingly volunteer to go in Sors’ place for the Hunger Games before I let you go.”
In the dusk light, Azalea thought she saw tears at the corners of Silene’s eyes. In one abrupt movement, Silene leaned over, embraced her and cried lightly on her shoulder. “Azalea, have I ever told you you’re the best friend I’ve ever had? Well… the only best friend I’ve ever had?”
Azalea hugged her back. “Yeah. And you’re the same for me.”
Little did Azalea know, this was the final satisfying, happy, warm moment she would ever encounter for the remainder of her life.

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