I wake to the feeling of soft fingers tracing my face. As my eye lids flutter open, the slightly glassy figure of my little cousin shakes into focus. Her eyes red and watery, and by the bags under them I can tell she hardly slept, of course that is understandable considering what day it is. Reaping Day. I glance at the window and notice that the sun has just started to creep over the horizon and send grey light in through the glass. Needing to get up anyways, I don't mind sitting up and pulling her tiny body into mine. Her head rests on my chest as I her hair gently.
My uncle named her Sarang, I briefly remember the day she was born, because I myself was still quiet young, but he said it was because the moment he saw her, he was in love. This always seems to be a pattern, or possibly a superpower, because Sarang somehow manages to make people love her, wherever she goes. She is so completely innocent, and caring, yet so fragile, a day like today no doubtably takes a tole on her.

"Shh, it's ok," I whisper as I hear her begin to weep. "Sarang it's your first year, there are thousands of slips, you'll never get picked..." I tell her, before placing a kiss upon her forehead. She just turned thirteen two month ago, so the fear of her first Reaping is very fresh.

I can't stay long, I need to get out early so I can get a decent haul before I'm needed in the City Square at twelve o'clock along with all the other eligible children from District 12. "Listen, I love you, and you'll be fine." I rest her head back on her pillow. I look up for a moment and peek over at the two other beds in our room. Our grandmother sleeps in a bed in the corner, while across from me and Sarang's bed is my other cousin Seolbi, and she is curled up happily in her blankets. The two of them are still sound asleep. "You're going out again aren't you..." Sarang whispers, playing with a strand of my hair.

"Yes, I must. You know I have to. Just sleep Sarang, you'll be alright." I push a couple strands of hair out of her face, and hum quietly to sooth her. Slowly she closes her eyes, and not a moment later, she is fast asleep do to exhaustion. I pull my share of the blankets over her as well, before swinging my legs off the side of the bed. Underneath it I pull out a burlap sack that contains a pare of tight high waisted brown pants slightly baggy around the hips, with deep pockets. After changing to to the pant I then lace up a pare of leather boots, worn in many places, but still durable. I finish lacing them at my knees before pulling off my night gown to grab a black shirt from my bag and put it on. Not bothering to deal with the probable state of my long knotted hair, I simply pull it into a bun and retrieve a cap from my bag.

I creep out of the bedroom, bag slung over my shoulder. After making it out without a sound I make my way down the hall, passing by my brother's room. He sleeps separately from us women because he wanted his space, and so it was lucky there was a spare room. He usually wakes up early, but never before I do. I see laying over the back of a tattered rocking chair is my uncle's hunting jacket. I lift it up and let my fingers trace over the leather before setting down my bag to pull it over my body.

My uncle was always the ambitious — or some would say wild — type, the one thinking outside the box and realizing hunting was the best way to find food, which is why when he passed away, he left his jacket and secrets with the only one probably as wild as he was, me. My own father died before I was born for stealing food, it seems rather harsh, but the head Peacekeeper at the time never took any crime lightly. That why my brother was too afraid to come with me and our Uncle. Our father was whipped so severally, that he bled to death. It was ghastly and horrid, but my mother was still pregnant with Jungkook and I so we hadn't witnessed it. My uncle told s about it when we were ten, because before that my mother didn't want us to know.

I push open the front door and it creaks as the moulding wood and rusting hinges move. Where I live is nicknamed The Rim, because we are literally right on the rim of the district. The poorest of our citizens live here, the ones who never have enough to eat, the ones who's men are forced to work in our coal mines and coal factories. I always feel depressed whenever I walk through here, despite the familiarity, so I suppose that's why this emotion makes me feel at home.

Usually there are some people waking up by now, men getting ready to go to work, and frail children getting up to say goodbye. No one is up today though, because on days like today most prefer to sleep in, may as well sleep if you can. I guess I would be too if I could afford to not make today's trip.

By the time I make it to the Meadow, a combination of yellowing patches of grass around the district, I give a long sigh of relief. Beyond the Meadow is a fence known as The Boundary, with barbed wire and metal pols, with a sign says 'Danger : No Access Beyond This Point', but I ignore it. Looking to my right, there my eyes find a hole in the fence. Over the years, the barbed wire has grown weak, and has even broken or bent, leaving gaps along the fence. There are more then just this one, but it is closest to home. I crouch down, and toss my sack through it, before pausing to listen for the hum of electricity that is supposed to be always on, but never really is. With nothing but the sound of the wind, I move to put my leg through the gap, and then slowly move my body through.

I jog the short remainder of the the Meadow until I'm safe inside my trees. Almost automatically I find myself smiling. A cool breeze ripples through the trees above my head, causing a shower of music that wraps around me. I allow myself a moments to simply sit there and listen to it, wondering how something so serene and beautiful could possibly exist on a day like today. I walk for five minutes in search of an abandoned fox den, but find something quiet different. Her I am, crouched by a tree, examining a patch of water deer prints.

It has been months since we, my best friend Jimin and I, last spotted one. I would normally be on my way to meet up with him, had I not just spotted the tracks. Knowing this could be my only chance, I make my way threw the trees, and scale a log over a ditch, before coming to an abandoned fox den. I reach my arm inside, and pull out what my excited hands are looking for.
My bow and sheath of arrows are what I retrieve from the den, and as usually I count my arrows and while I do so, rub the tail feathers of each between my fingers. These arrows, like my bow, were made by my uncle. He was always the closest thing I had to a father, since my own died before I was born, and now that he is gone too the times I feel closest to him are the ones where I'm holding my bow and arrows.

I can't wast time, the little deer has a good five minute head start on me, and will be making it's way to the river. I sling on the sheath and ready an arrow on my bow. It should be pretty easy to take it down once I find it, just as long as it hasn't taken to water. I tread silently through the underbrush, and eventually break into an almost silent run. I break through a couple of trees, and find my target sipping from the cool current of the river. I lift my bow, and pull back on the string. The soft feathers of the tail brush against my flushed cheek as I pull back, elbow raised. I'm ready to shoot. I'm ready to let my arrow fly.

But I miss.

"Isn't it cruel to be hunting such cute little animals?" Mocked a familiar voice as he loudly bounds out from the forest not but a couple meters away from me. Not only does he shake my concentration, allowing the suddenly startled deer to escape into the water, but causes me to whip round. I send my arrow into an innocent bird perched in a tree, right above the owner of the voice's head. In response I add a screech of distaste and frustration.

"Jimin! This isn't funny, it was the first time either of us had come across one in so long. How could you?" I scold him, though he laughs continuously. I turn to were the water deer once was, and see it just escaping into the trees across the river. Well so much for a feast, I think.

I turn back to look at Jimin, and let out a long sigh. Never could I stay mad at him. Perhaps it is the lingering smirk on his face, or the fact his eyes always seem to be begging me for forgiveness after he plays a trick such as this on me. Or maybe I just know it would be useless to stay mad at an idiot like him for an extended period of time, because he is a genius when hunting. Naturally I decided of the latter, and punch him playfully in the arm as I walk past him to pick up the dead bird.

As I am examining the bird I realize it is a chukar partridge, and that it would do nicely once roasted, this'll have to do, so I retrieve my arrow from the base of it's neck. I tie a string around it's feet and wings, then stuff it in my game bag. Jimin comes to my side and I look at the cheeky grin on his face, damn him, I really can't stay mad. We decide we better begin our morning hunt now, that way we can make the needed trades in town and have time to get ready before the Reaping.

By 10:00 we have gotten rather far from The Boundary, but I'm not too worried because in the process we garnered a couple rabbits each and handfuls of edible plants such as dandelions and Groundnuts. We are making our way back now, that way we don't waist time. I can hear the forest around me, and it still seems so peaceful and happy, despite if being such a hated day here in twelve. "Are you worried about the ceremony?" I find myself asking Jimin suddenly.

"Well no, not really..." He paused and sighed, "But that would be a lie. Who isn't worried?" He had a point. However I've always thought people like us, ones born and raised in the Rim, had more reason to be worried then others. Most people in town didn't need to take out extra Rations like us. At the age of thirteen till nineteen, you are eligible to take out Rations, which are a years worth of water, oil, dried fruit, and dry grains used to make flat bread. There is only enough for one person per Ration, so you are able to take out more for each family member. Seems pretty good right? Not really. Because the more times you take out Rations, the more times your name is entered into the Reaping Ceremony. Normally at age thirteen your name is entered once, then at fourteen twice, and by the time you're nineteen your name will be entered a total of seven times. However if you take out Rations, the number goes up...a lot.

"H-how many times is your name in this year?" I dare to ask.

"One hundred-twenty-four." He answers dryly. I almost choke at the number, but it made sense. He had seven people including himself he needed to get Rations for, and this is his fifth year. He is seventeen. There isn't anyway around it. "What about you Heesun?"

"Eighty four." I whisper, but I have a feeling he knows whether he hears me say it or not. There is only five of us at home, and this is only my fourth year, I'm just sixteen.

"The odds don't seem to be faring us too well this year huh?" Jimin jokes and I roll my eyes. He is mocking the saying Trinity, our districts , always says. The original line is 'May the Odds Fare Thee Well' but like Jimin said, it isn't looking too good for either of us this year.

"Happy Victory Games, Everyone!" I announce loudly into the tree tops. No one can here us from out here. That's probably why Jimin says I only act myself when I'm surrounded by trees. The rest of the time he teases me for sulking so much. I suppose it is true, I always feel so stuffy and restricted in twelve, but our here I'm free.

We both laugh at the how ironic it is that everyone from The Capital is so cheery and excited about these games, when for us we must send our youth out to slaughter. It doesn't really seem a pleasant thing to laugh at, but the alternative is crying and panicking, and neither fits my liking.

Suddenly I stop walking, and so does Jimin. There is something wrong. The birds aren't audible from the trees, and all that surrounds us is the sound of wind, whistling through the silent trees. Jimin reaches out and takes a hold of my hand, and I lock mine tightly in his. All of a sudden it seems to calm, but not a moment later the tree tops are unnaturally blown back and forth. Then, casting a shadow over our forest, appears a large silver air craft. It has the Capital seal on the bottom of it, and without hesitation Jimin drags me behind a thick tree surrounded by bushes. We crouch to make sure they don't see us, and I give out a long held breath when the birds finally begin to chirp again.

"We need to go now." He says, and I nod in agreement.

As we make our way home, we stop at Sijang, the black market operating out of an old supply warehouse for coal before it was shut down. There are many different booths to go to, and usually