The day of the Reaping is always so quiet, it's unnerving. District Seven is always alive with the sound of falling trees, buzzing saws and the clanging of axes. But on the Reaping, everyone ceases working while they prep their children to perhaps face their bell tolling. The woods are quiet, save for the occasional squawk of a bird, or ominous howl of a wolf. Of course, the wolves are rarely a problem, as the deep woods where I like to venture is off limits to civilians. But the electric fence is rarely electrified, so I often travel there and try and snare myself some wolves. They are a rarity in the small black market area of D7, but our mayor is very fond of their meat. Personally, I think it's disgusting, but whatever. He gives me the coins that keep myself and my brother from needing tessera, so I don't give a fuck what he likes.

In any case, it's these solo trips to the woods where I met Slayer, my wolfhound. He was just a pup, clearly abandoned by whatever roaming pack, and shivering in a strong rain. I brought him home, and against the wishes of both my parents, kept him. Pet wolves aren't exactly allowed in the district, but I think the Peacekeepers were too scared of him to try and take him away. He was my hunting buddy, my woodcutting buddy. When I'd sneak away into the thicket of pines, we'd sit by a small fire and he'd just lay there while I whittled at whatever little wooden trinket I desired to make.

My mother tries to do something with my hair – but like me, it defies her at every twist and just hangs by my shoulders, tangling like wind chimes in a strong breeze. My brother Arbor is eleven, so this will be the last Hunger Games that he won't have to stand with the rest of us. I can tell by the way my mother nervously looks at him while I fix my dress that she has realized this, and is already dreading the day when he and I will stand there together. Slayer notices the tension, too, and is standing as a vigilant guard at my feet, his ears straight up in the air.

"Are we gonna play Flips when you get home?" Arbor asks from his bed, tossing a wooden coin in his hand. My mother opens her mouth to answer and I shake my head. Don't ruin this for him, mother. Don't remind him that I may never come back.

"Sure, kid," I reply, giving his black hair a shake. "But I always win," I remind him with a smirk.

He's properly offended and I can't help but laugh. "You do not! I won one time."

He's right; I let him win one time last year, just before the Reaping. Just in case I had been chosen then, I wanted him to have a moment. I don't answer him, instead I start toward the door. My mother stops me, giving me one final appraisal. "Do I pass inspection?"

My sarcasm doesn't faze her and she purses her lips disapprovingly. "Johanna, please." She pulls me into a hug, and I humor her because there's always a chance they will pull my name from that bowl. And I don't want her to remember me being stingy with hugs, even though I am. I am not affectionate. I love my family, but do I have to show it by pressing my body to theirs? I didn't think so. I bend down to give Slayer an ear rub. He doesn't believe my intents and I can tell he wants to follow me out.

"Sorry, Slayer, you've gotta stay in," I say calmly to him. He sits down, confused but obedient. "I'll see you soon, buddy." I give him a kiss and get a big wet slobber across my cheek. My mother harrumphs and I smirk. He's undone the little amount of brushing up she's done on me. Oh well.

When Lilac Skylark (the Capitol might be a great place to live, but it's an awful place to name a child) places her manicured, painted nails into the bowl, I am at ease. My name is only in there four times. My neighbor Annabelle is eighteen, and she looks totally shaken. Her parents are dead from a falling tree accident, and she's the sole provider for her four siblings. I can't even imagine how many times her name is in there.

But it's not her name that's called. It's mine. I must look shocked. When I watch the tape later, I am shocked. But I'm too proud (or stupid) for that, so I merely place my lips in a line and walk calmly forward. I catch Annabelle's eyes and I think she must be relieved. This is the last time she'll have to be called. But her brothers and sisters...they have a lot of tessera too. So she's not relieved. She's sad. I appreciate the pity, but I don't need it. Pity isn't going to get me out of that arena alive.

I completely tune out them calling the male victor – a boy I barely know named Harken. Our mentor, Jox, is a burly former woodsmen with a bushy brown beard. My mother told me stories about him, how he'd won by simply beating the other contestants to death. Looking at his massive biceps, it's not hard to imagine. But while I feel strong since I, too, wield axes for a living, my arms look like two twigs compared to his.

When we're ushered into our rooms, my mother is there, sobbing unconsolably. I look up at my father, who has his strong arms around her shoulders. We lock eyes; he knows I'm too proud to give them the satisfaction of making me cry. Arbor is sad, too, but he just looks confused. Instead of trying to figure out how to console my mother, I sit on the wooden bench next to Arbor. "Listen, kid, take care of Slayer for me, okay?" He just nods and I roll my eyes. "Answer me."

"Okay, Jo," he mumbles quietly, fumbling with a wooden soldier I had made for him a few years prior. I can feel the tears beginning to boil in my eyelids and I wipe them quickly. "I guess we're not playing Flips tonight."

"No, kid, not tonight." I kneel on the floor in front of him, my hands on his knees. "But I will win when I get back, okay?"

"Nobody ever comes back," he replies and my mother shrieks. Arbor's deep black eyes go wide. "I-I'm sorry, mama."

"Nonsense, Arbor," my father chimes in. "People come back. District Seven has had winners. And we Masons are winners." He looks at me and I smile appreciatively. I can tell he truly believes this, but he's devastated. He puts his hand on my shoulder just as they open the door.

He pulls me into the tightest, fiercest hug I've ever had. "Reveal nothing," he whispers into my ear. I don't quite understand why he's telling me this, but I nod. "Give them nothing. And win everything."

I am quite literally wrenched from his grasp as they pull me down the hallway. Time seems to move like a tracker jacker, quietly and with a low buzz, until I'm on the train going toward the Capitol. I ignore the slow talk of my mentor as we sit at the luxurious spread they have for us. Instead I watch as the District pulls into the distance, already missing the smell of pine and fire. My fellow tribute is carefully listening to Jox as he recounts his time in the arena, but I'm still staring out the window.

"Johanna," Lilac calls to me, placing her hand on mine. I look up at her, and if I could shoot daggers, she'd have been pinned to the wall. She immediately recoils and I smirk. "Please, pay attention. Your very life depends on it."

"No shit," I reply, rolling my eyes. "I'm going to bed. Wake me when we get to the Capitol." Giving them the brush-off, I storm into my room, slamming the door closed behind me. I have no patience for Jox's stories. He's a huge man, of course he went at them with an axe. His beard alone screams scary woodsman. I undress and slip under the covers. Maybe I should attempt to be more modest and put on sleeping wear, but at this point, I am out of fucks to give. So instead I opt for the comfortable nude and attempt to let the train rock me to sleep.

The next morning I sullenly take my breakfast with Harken. Even though it's more food than I've ever seen, I don't want to look like I appreciate it, so I fiddle with my spoon and look bored. Harken is shoveling food down like it's going out of style and I try to ignore his grunts. Lilac and Jox join us soon after, and Jox and Harken begin talking strategy. I roll my eyes and Jox catches me. He's tolerated my lack of interest thus far, but by the look in his eyes, he's had about enough of my crap. Can't say I blame him, though I don't care.

"Johanna, you should really work on a strategy."

"Why?" I counter. "So I can learn how to kill Harken? Who gives a fuck?" I look at Harken, who is surprised by my tone, a dripping of meat coming from his mouth. I grimace. As if this was some fucking sacred place and Jox was some kind of messiah, and I just torched the place down. "Fuck this," I say, standing up abruptly and knocking my chair to the floor.

"Sit down Johanna!" Jox orders, his manly booming voice filling the cabinet. Lilac nearly spills tea on her outlandish turquoise dress. I square my shoulders and shake my head. "Sit. Down."

"Or what? I'm going to die soon anyway, Jox, so what? You want to know my strategy? To not be the first person to die. That's it. So take your so-called advice and promptly go fuck yourself." Again I storm into my room, slamming the door so hard behind me the hinges rattle. That was the last time I saw Jox or Harken before we entered training.

Just before pulling into the Capitol station, a small knock is on my door. "Go away," I bark, my head in my hands. I'm sobbing pretty hard and this is truly the last thing I'd ever want any of the trio of idiots to see me do. The small knock happens again, more insistent this time. "Are you stupid?"

"Please open the door, Johanna," the meek voice comes from the other side. Lilac. I suddenly feel pretty bad about my remark and I sigh. I'm sure I look like hell, but at this point I don't care what she thinks, so I open the door. She looks upset, and then surprised to see how red my eyes are.

"You've been crying," she says stupidly.

"Yep."

She lets herself in, pushing past me. I resist the urge to grab her by the throat and toss her out. Instead I make a mock welcoming gesture. The sarcasm is not lost on her, surprisingly. "I'm not here to lecture you, Johanna."

"Call me Jo." Lilac gives me a small smile. "If you're going to watch me die, then you should at least call me what everyone else does." Her smile drops. She should feel sorry. It's her idiot friends who are the reason kids are going to die in a few days.

"Okay, Jo," she says experimentally. "I've got something for you." She pats the bed next to where she sits and I raise my eyebrow and smirk. I know that isn't what she meant, but it seems like she'd be pretty easy to rile up. She is, and she looks horrified. "Oh my, not like that. Nothing like that, oh goodness."

I let out a laugh, the first time I've laughed in days, and it sounds very foreign to my ears. The blushing on Lilac's face, that I can see clearly even though the very heavy green makeup, creeps up her cheeks. "I know, brainless," I remark, sitting down on the bed next to her. "So what have ya got, Skylark?"

She appears happy that I've given her a nickname. Better than "idiot" or "brainless" as I've been calling her in my head. She pulls out a small bracelet, handing it to me. It's about four strands of thin wood, tangled in a continuous braid. There are a few small, almost impossibly small, gems in each turn of the wood. How someone could even make something this flexible is beyond me. I instinctively hold it to my nose, smelling the fresh smell of cut wood. "I had someone in your district make this for you."

"Crazy Eyes?" I ask, raising my eyebrow. Only me and Crazy Eyes (her real name was lost to the ages, since she was about as old as the dirt beneath the trees) had the kind of talent to create something like this. Lilac smiles and nods. She motions for me to put it on, and I do. "Is this my token?"

"Yes. I mean, typically we'd wait until training, but I saw how upset you were, and I thought maybe you were homesick." Off my narrowed eyes she sighed. "I know why you're upset, obviously these are awful circumstances, but I think everyone gets a little homesick, too."

I look down at my bracelet, them back up at my escort. Her eyes are a vibrant green, but coming from the Capitol, I don't know if that's natural or cosmetic. Either way it's a truly beautiful color. Not one for a filter, I let her know. "Your eyes are gorgeous. Like a fresh sprout in the spring." She blushes again and I give her the first genuine smile I've given anyone since leaving my district. I can tell she's surprised by my compliment, since she hasn't thanked me. She seemed like a stickler for manners.

"Th-thank you," she stammers, getting up from my bed. Again I've made her uncomfortable and I can't help but grin a little. It's fun watching her squirm. The way the Capitol residents parade their wealth, you'd think them shameless. But a few of them were probably like Lilac. Especially escorts like she was, who have to see how the rest of Panem lives at least once a year. "See you tomorrow."

I nod silently and she walks out of the room. She hesitates by the door. Whatever she wants to say she thinks better of it and leaves instead, shutting the door quietly behind her. I lay back down onto my mattress, twirling my bracelet around my wrist. Home. I want to go back. The only way back is a blood red trail.