A/N: What can I say? I got inspired when Mockingjay pt. 2 came out. We'll see where this goes. Enjoy! :)

The mirror leans against the bare wall. It's simple—tall and rectangular with a couple pictures tucked into the thin wooden frame. They say Gillikin's other districts have better furniture. They say the rest of Oz has worse.

Glinda Upland sits cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror and runs a brush through her golden hair, admiring its shine in the soft morning light. The house is still quiet, though she can hear Ama Clutch in the living room, no doubt rocking back and forth in her chair and sipping at her tea. The old woman didn't sleep last night. Glinda is running on only a few hours herself, but excitement keeps any weariness away. She's been waiting for this day for the past eighteen years.

It doesn't take long for her to get ready. A slight curl to her hair, a pale pink dress, just a dab of makeup. She looks soft, maybe even sweet. Her tiny build helps. She smiles at her reflection, teeth and eyes flashing dangerously. Appearances have always worked well for her.

Ama Clutch is in the kitchen when Glinda gets there, humming along to the radio as she spreads jam over a couple slices of toast. The blonde pulls a mug from the cupboard and pours herself water from the kettle.

"There you are, Glinda! Oh, you look gorgeous."

Glinda's mother hurries across the room to hug her. She's fretting over Glinda's outfit in an instant, gushing about how well she'll look on camera. Her father follows quietly behind, giving his daughter a smile.

"I hope you know we're proud of you, sweetie," he says. Ama Clutch scowls as Glinda mumbles out an embarrassed thank you. The entire scene is cut off, though, for at that moment the radio starts blaring a short, familiar tune.

"Good morning Pertha Hills!"

Glinda shrugs away from her mother and rushes to the counter to listen closer.

"As mayor of this district, let me be the first to wish you all a happy reaping day! As you all know, the ceremony will be held outside Frottica's Justice Building. Potential tributes are to report to the square for sign in by…"

Ama slides the plate of toast toward Glinda and walks out of the room. The mayor continues speaking, but Glinda is too busy staring after her to listen.

It's nearing mid-morning when Glinda reaches Frottica's main square. The Gale Force are everywhere, standing in clusters of two or three with their guns hanging loosely at their sides. A man grabs her wrist to prick her finger, and Glinda gives him her most disarming smile. His cheeks go red and he stutters just a little as he waves her on.

Glinda strolls into the square with her chin high. Her heels clip against the pavement as she makes her way over to girls' side of the eighteen year old section. The crowd parts as she moves, the other teenagers stumbling back to get out of her way. The blonde bites back a smirk, but then lets it show. She's been training her entire life for this—why shouldn't she enjoy it?

She chooses a spot near the edge of her section and leans against a post, gazing around at everyone. Tiny twelve year olds stand nervously near the front of the crowd, just before the stage that has been set up for the reaping. A line of chairs sits toward the back of the stage, half-filled with official people. The mayor is speaking to a Gale Force member with a badge on their chest. A brightly dressed Emerald City man is practically bouncing in front of a stern-looking woman.

Glinda narrows her eyes, focusing on the woman. She recognizes her, of course. It's Madame Morrible, Pertha Hills's most famous victor. She won the Games nearly forty years ago. Going in, no one had expected much from the grumpy young girl who seemed to like books more than anything, but young Morrible had a remarkable talent for sorcery. That, along with a ruthless, almost cruel streak of violence, helped her survive her Games. Now, of course, Morrible's magic is reduced to pretty tricks for the cameras and the occasional weather spell during the rainy seasons. But Glinda still holds a deep fear and respect for the woman who will soon be her mentor.

Because Glinda Upland will be the girl tribute from Pertha Hills. She stands up straight as the mayor moves to the front of the stage. He starts speaking, reciting the history of the Hunger Games and all of Pertha Hills' previous winners, but Glinda ignores him and focuses instead on the thousands of little papers resting inside the glass ball on her side of the stage. Seven of those papers hold her name. Seven of those papers are a threat to her.

The mayor finishes and the square echoes with applause. The bouncy Emerald City man—Nikidik is his name—grins as he takes the microphone from the mayor.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Nikidik says. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" He moves over to the glass bowl Glinda has been staring at and reaches in. "Ladies first."

Seven chances to fail. If Glinda's name is called, then another girl will volunteer, and her last—her only—chance to compete will be gone.

But there are thousands of names in that bowl, and when Nikidik grabs a paper and reads out loud, Glinda grins.

"Mill—"

"I volunteer!" Glinda calls before he can even finish. Murmurs fly throughout the girls' section, particularly in the eighteen year olds, but no one dares to protest. Most of them have faced Glinda in training, and they know better than to cross her.

The blonde steps boldly out of the crowd and walks up to the stage. She catches a glimpse of herself on one of the screens that hangs around the square. Her chin is tilted up and her brows are arched. Her hair falls perfectly at her shoulders, not a single strand out of place. She's small, sure, but she moves with confidence and grace. And her eyes. Her eyes, like the rest of her, look deadly. The sight fills her with an intense, almost painful rush of excitement.

Morrible leans forward, assessing her as she takes the stage, and the blonde resists the urge to smirk. She moves to stand beside Nikidik, who visibly swallows and steps away. Glinda looks out across the crowd. A few of the girls look relieved. The ones her age look angry. Her lips twitch and she looks past them, finding her family. Her parents are beaming at her, eyes shining, but Ama Clutch has her head bowed.

Nikidik calls the boys next. A trembling thirteen year old is called, but almost immediately three older boys volunteer. Glinda watches closely as they sort it out. Multiple volunteers aren't a rare thing, and they quickly choose who the tribute will be. Glinda doesn't remember the name of the boy who takes the stage, but she recognizes him from school. He's dangerous with a belt of knives and decent with a bow, but past that he's only average. Hardly even a threat. They shake hands and Glinda smirks at him.

The ceremony ends quickly after that. They're escorted into the Justice Building and placed in separate rooms to wait for visitors. Glinda glides slowly into her room, letting herself admire it while she's still alone. The carpet is thick beneath her heels. The couches and chairs are clean and soft and made of velvet, which she runs her palm across. This is nothing like the sparse furniture and cramped rooms she grew up in, and the unfamiliarity makes her giddy.

Her parents come in first. Her mother squeals and her father hugs her tight, and Glinda feels that fierce rush of excitement again. But once the smiles have faded and the compliments run out and her father tells her again how proud they are, there's nothing but awkwardness. Fortunately, the few minutes are up then, and Mr. and Mrs. Upland are beckoned out of the room.

Next comes Ama Clutch, but she holds none of the happiness that Glinda feels. Her fingers hold her purse so tightly that her knuckles have turned white, but she holds herself upright and meets Glinda's eyes.

Some emotion fills Glinda's chest, but she can't quite name it. There is and always has been something about the way Ama looks at her. There's pride, but it's quiet, more sincere than her parents. There's respect, but none of the fear with which her classmates regard her. And then there's expectation, but again, it's different from everyone else, as if what Ama Clutch expects from her isn't for her own gain, but for Glinda's and Glinda's alone.

The old woman is quiet, like usual, but there's no awkwardness between them. When Ama opens up her arms, Glinda steps eagerly into them.

"Don't worry," says Glinda. "I'll be back before you know it."

Ama Clutch puts a hand to her cheek and steps back. "You sound so eager," she says quietly. Her eyes are full of a sorrow that, to Glinda, seems absurdly out of place.

"Of course I'm eager," the blonde says. "Why wouldn't I be? I can handle anything these Games throw at me."

"I know you're more than capable." Ama's eyes are shining now, holding in tears, and Glinda is more confused than ever. "I'm just not sure you understand what you're getting into."

"What do you mean?"

The old woman sighs. "A fight to the death, duckie? Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"Of course! I've been training for years, I'm the top of my class, I—"

"I'm not talking about physically. Mentally, emotionally—are you really ready to kill other people?"

Glinda takes a step back now, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's what I've been preparing for my whole life."

Ama shakes her head. "I just want you to be careful. Even if you win, you might not be coming back in one piece."

"When I win, it will be an honor," the blonde says heatedly. Ama Clutch looks at her with something close to disappointment.

"Are you really that excited to throw away your life for something as ridiculous as honor, duckie?"

Glinda scowls. "I'm not throwing my life away. I've been training for this for years, Ama. And the winnings I get would help us finally move out of that tiny house. We could live in the Victor's Village, and we'd never have to worry about food or money or anything ever again. I mean, just look at this place!" She spreads her arms out, gesturing to the room. "We could live like this. Everything we own could look like this. Everything we would ever want could be ours."

"And if you don't win?" the old woman asks softly. "What then?"

A Gale Force member walks in before Glinda can respond. Ama Clutch grasps her hand as if to say something more, but her lips stay pressed firmly together as she's led out of the room. The door shuts behind them and, for the first time, Glinda feels alone.

It's not how Glinda wanted to say goodbye, but she pushes the scene from her mind. She'll be back in a few weeks, and by then their conversation won't matter at all.

They're at the train station by noon. It's crowded with cameras and reporters and Gale Force members. Glinda smiles bright and giggles whenever a reporter asks her a question. The other tribute keeps up with her, but he aims a few looks at her. He's seen what's beneath the bubbly exterior. He knows it's all an act. She meets his gaze and flashes him a grin, already having the time of her life.

They all eat lunch together—Glinda and the other boy, Nikidik, and the two mentors. The train is even more luxurious than the Justice Building, and the food is beyond anything she's ever seen, but Glinda's attention is centered on Madame Morrible. Introductions are made, of course, but she brushes aside the boy and his mentor. She knows enough of the boy to know how he fights, and that's all she needs. Everything else is just a distraction, and she has better things to worry about.

After the meal they split up. Glinda follows Madame Morrible back a few cars until they reach a room with a long, plush couch, a coffee table, and a giant television screen. Morrible goes to a small console beneath the screen and begins pulling up images. Glinda watches the screen as they come up. They are obviously reaping videos. She sees flashes of sturdy, dark-skinned kids from the Vinkan districts, oddly clothed Quadlings, and even a quick flash of a tall girl with, of all things, green skin.

"Who was that?" Glinda asks, but the image disappears as another video is pulled up in front of it.

"Before you can begin training, you must know what you'll be up against," Morrible says, ignoring her question. "I had someone record and send me the videos of the other districts' reapings. Your assignment for the day is to watch them all. Pay attention to who your biggest threats will be. When you are done, come find me." She steps back from the screen and turns to leave.

"Madame, wait!" says Glinda. Morrible looks at her, one eyebrow raised. Glinda swallows, and for the first time that day, she's nervous. "I—I was wondering. You used magic to win your Games. I…well, I've been fascinated with sorcery all my life. I was just…wondering if…if you could teach me—"

"Sorcery," says Morrible, drawing herself up, "Is not a skill one can simply learn. Either you have the talent, or you don't. Now I suggest you watch those videos, Miss Upland. We have a lot of work to do."

She glides out of the train car, the door sliding shut behind her. Glinda stands in the middle of the room, trying not to let the words sting. She clenches her fists and moves to the console to pull up the first video.

"It doesn't matter," she tells herself as she snatches the remote and curls up on the couch. "Magic would be nice, but I don't need it to win."

Maybe it's something she's wanted since she was a little girl. Maybe it's the only thing that has ever been important—besides being a victor, of course. But there will be plenty of time after the Games to learn sorcery. She brushes off the last of her annoyance and hits play on the remote.

There are twelve reapings in all. Oz is divided into four nations, and each nation is further divided into three districts. Pertha Hills is part of Gillikin, home of the three Career districts, as the rest of Oz likes to call them. They have more money, more food, and more victors. Glinda starts with the other Gillikin reapings, paying close attention.

Two other tributes stick out right away—a boy and a girl, both from the Shiz district. The girl—Shenshen, they call her—reminds Glinda a little of herself. The perfect makeup, fancy dress, and grateful smile is definitely something Glinda can appreciate. But this girl looks older, stronger, and she's definitely taller. Glinda dresses up to appear innocent, but it seems that Shenshen dresses up to appear deadly. The blonde makes a mental note and replays the video, focusing this time on the boy.

Avaric Tenmeadows. Glinda narrows her eyes. The Tenmeadows family is notorious in the Games. Someone volunteers every generation, and they always win. Avaric doesn't look like he'll be an exception. He's solid and good looking, and well-toned muscles ripple beneath his skin. Glinda zooms the video in to get a better look. His hands are calloused, indicating some sort of melee weapon. His eyes are bright, too, and his constant smirk suggests arrogance. Glinda notes all of this and replays the video one last time, just in case there's something she missed.

There's an air of familiarity when Avaric and Shenshen shake hands, and Glinda is instantly certain that there's an alliance there she'll have to either join or avoid.

She watches the other Gillikin district and gathers as much as she can from its two tributes before moving on to the Vinkus. The tributes of the Vinkus aren't as threatening as the Careers, but they shouldn't be cast aside, either. The Vinkans have been hunters since the beginning of Oz, and really, what are the Games if not one big hunting match? The tributes from these districts are hardy and stern. She makes a note of one boy and girl who seem familiar with each other. If they're used to hunting with each other…

Next is Quadling Country. Glinda watches their reapings with a hint of disgust. The Quadlings are a strange people, with strange clothes and a strange language. Some of them are strong from working the mines, but most of them are too poor and starved to ever put up a fight.

Rolling her eyes, Glinda chooses the next video and hits play. She sits up straighter when she realizes these are the Munchkinland districts. She remembers the strange green girl she had seen when Morrible was pulling up the videos, and suddenly she's dying to know more.

She watches the kids line up in front of the stage, watches one of the Gale Force members swing his gun around while the Eminent Thropp recites a few lines, and then watches the Emerald City representative all but skip up to the bowl of names.

"Nessarose Thropp!"

Glinda sits forward. The Thropps are the ruling family of Munchkinland—the green freak is one of them? But to her surprise, it isn't the green girl who starts walking up to the stage. It's much worse.

Nessarose Thropp wobbles slowly out of the crowd. Every step seems to take the utmost balance and concentration. Glinda narrows her eyes and zooms in—surely it's just a trick, a weird angle of the camera…

No, it's real. The girl has no arms.

"I volunteer!"

The camera spins around, and there is the green girl, pushing her way out of the crowd.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Glinda stares, mesmerized. This gangly green girl should be a nobody. Her skin stretches tightly over her bones, making her too thin to be a threat. Her features are sharp and seem permanently etched into a glare, making her too ugly to be adored. And yet…

The way she holds herself—tall and fiercely stubborn. The way her silky dark hair twists back into a braid that swishes across her back. The way her scowl softens only when she bends down to Nessarose—who, Glinda realizes, must be her younger sister.

The green girl says a few quick words and hands the younger Thropp off to the old woman who rushes to meet them. Must be their Ama, Glinda thinks, but her attention is brought back to the green girl, who is now climbing the stage. She shoves away the hands of the Gale Force members who reach for her and completely ignores the Emerald City representative who is trying to congratulate her. Behind her, the Eminent Thropp laces his fingers together beneath his chin. His expression, much like the green girl's, gives away nothing.

But there is something more important that catches Glinda's attention. Even through the video, she can see the slight ripple in the air surrounding the Thropp girl. The slender green body trembles, and her dark eyes burn with barely contained energy. Glinda pauses the video and walks slowly toward the screen. She should be thinking about threats. She should be figuring out how this girl's desperation to save her sister will play out in the arena. She should be learning how to best destroy this green freak. But instead, only one thought pulses through her.

Magic. She has magic.