A/N: Although I've written quite a few different fanfiction stories, this is the first I've ever posted. Opinions are appreciated. =] If I get enough positive feedback, I'll keep posting. These updates may not be as timely as I'd like them to be, but I'll try my best. {At the moment I'm on my best friend's internet, lol}. Also-keep in mind that the rest of the story will have a lot more Cato in it...but we have to get that annoying full-of-intros first chapter out of the way first. x] And I know it's kinda short...future chapters will definetly be longer, and not just because they were/are funner to write. I just don't want to post a ton if nobody but me cares.

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever owned any part of the Hunger Games. I only wish, lol.

Queasy.

That was the first thing she was sure she felt. Her stomach was churning, a great, faceless terror gripping her heart in its vicious claws.

Because she knew. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would be her. She silently cursed the small fraction of her mother's premonition that she had inherited.

At the same time, she was grateful. Looking at the faces of several nervous girls clustered around her, she was glad that it was she, not them, that would be uprooted. None of them had done anything to deserve being chosen as tribute, and a slight smile crossed her lips at the thought.

The Reapings of District 10 had always been rather quick, rushed by the despair of knowing that neither tribute stood a chance against the savagery of the Careers. Her name was called, and though she'd known for far too long that this was how things would go, she felt her face stiffen before freezing into an unbelieving mask of panic. "Evania Gardell!" the sharp voice of the announcer, a visitor from the Capitol called again, somewhat testily.

Blinking a few times to banish the visions of what could be, she stepped forward. Each face she passed was full of sympathy. Her courage picked back up. These people couldn't deserve this terrible fate. By taking it herself, she spared them. She smiled again, drawing more than her fair share of incredulous stares. Her mind was numb, unable to focus on the rest of the event.

A boy, around her age but likely a few years younger, suddenly stood in front of her. His hand was held out, but it took her a minute to recall what was going on. She took this opportunity to let her gaze rake over him, and she recognized Paul, the kind boy who worked a few barns over, tending hogs. She recalled his disability, the one that caused his limp—a sure death sentence in the Games. He caught her eye and smiled slightly, to be reassuring—or so she assumed. She smiled back, all the while hoping to herself that their deaths were quick, dealt by the hand of someone with at least an ounce of mercy in them.

Her goodbyes were depressingly few. Not many bothered to come see her, except the manager of the barn she'd worked in for years. She still had school, on top of her job, where she might've made friends, but none showed up. That was okay; working in the barns was how she fed herself. Many kids, when faced with a situation like hers went hunting for their meals, but she didn't have the stomach for it. She loathed killing.

"I know you well enough to know that you're only going to win if everyone has at it, mortally wounding each other, and you don't have to kill anyone," the aging man had begun gruffly. "But please, try, at least, Evania? Try?"

She gazed at him for a moment—his weathered face, callused, wrinkled hands and receding hairline—after she recovered; she choked up a bit after seeing how sincere he was.

"I think I might," she finally said, unable to meet the fierce green eyes of the one person she could say genuinely cared about her. They clasped hands for a moment, before he was removed from the room.

That night, she watched a recap of the Reapings. After one look at the Careers, she realized it was crazy for her to even consider that she might have any chance in these Games.

She fell into a restless sleep, waking frequently from the nightmare that didn't quite stop when she opened her eyes.

"Alright!" she looked up to see Atala's face rigid, as she glared down at the ring of children temporarily under her supervision. Her eyes were practically a dare to act up. "Choose a station!"

She waited until the others had made their mad dashes to pick their first choice. Honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted a choice. She ended up sitting across from an elderly woman, who appeared as helpful as they come. Like a genuinely decent person. "How much do you know about plants, young woman?"

She resisted the urge to brush off a real answer with an easier "meh.", considering it carefully. "Well, I know quite a bit about medicinal herbs," she mumbled. "But as far as edible? My knowledge is slightly shakier. I just want a refresher before I end up in the arena."

The woman's eyes glinted knowingly. "I see we have a smart one, for once." She chose not to reply to that, not wanting to come off as egotistical. The next long while reassured her that she did indeed recall her plant knowledge, which was a good confidence boost.

She paused for a moment, letting her gaze linger on each of the other Tributes in turn.

One of them, a boy about twice her size, caught her, and she was shocked by the ice that dropped into her stomach as their eyes locked. He sneered, and she realized a moment later that it probably had something to do with the spear jutting from the chest of a dummy. She instinctively knew him to be the thrower. She turned, unable to keep it up any longer. Before she could be dispatched in much the same way as that dummy, she switched stations-or, rather, she was hiding behind one, trying to calm her racing pulse.