Dust to Dust

Prologue

It's not your eyes
It's not what you say
It's not your laughter
That gives you away
You're just lonely
You've been lonely, too long

Johanna took one final swing of her axe, relishing in the heavy sound the steel made when it bit into the wood. The tree groaned in the light wind, and the inches of flesh in the hinge still keeping it upright started to crack and splinter. Johanna pulled her axe free and leaned against the tree, encouraging its demise. A startling pop sounded and she retreated quickly in case the trunk kicked back at her.

She didn't call out any warning as the tree fell, it was still early, and no one would be working until after the reaping anyway. It landed with a booming thud that Johanna felt in her ribs. Startled birds took flight in dark clouds from the nearby trees, voicing their displeasure. Once the felled tree had fully settled, Johanna returned to the stump and picked up her canteen before taking a seat on her natural throne.

Drinking deeply from the half empty container, Johanna took several moments to rest and enjoy the serenity of nature. Some of the birds had returned, and awake now, called out to each other overhead. The scent of damp earth and pine filled the air and she breathed deeply the bouquet. To the east, the first fingers of dawn were creeping over the shadows, but dark clouds obstructed more than a greyish tinge.

It would rain at District Seven's reaping. It usually did.

Johanna checked her watch, squinting at the cracked face to see the hands. She insisted on only buying within her district, never sending away for anything that came from the capital, so it was a cheap, busted-ass, piece of shit, but it told the time well enough. She had about three hours before the first reapings would happen in Twelve and Eleven, just enough time to load up her haul and drive back to the truck yard. She had "borrowed" a small lumber truck for her early morning excursion, but the Peacekeeper on duty hadn't tried to stop her. No one was going to complain about a little free labor.

With a tired grunt, Johanna got back to her feet and started to work on sectioning up the tree.

Two hours later, the sun shining faintly through the clouds, Johanna walked through the quietly stirring town with her axe slung over her shoulders. No one greeted her and she didn't offer anything either. The people of Seven respected her wish to be left alone. Even the other victors rarely bothered her.

Of the five inhabited houses of victor's village, hers was the only one that was occupied by only one person. The other victors had families. The other victors had friends.

Johanna took her time preparing to watch the first reapings. She took a long shower, thoroughly washing her short hair to ensure there weren't any branches or bugs caught in it, and relaxing her shoulders and back under the hot spray. She had not allowed being a victor to soften her. Just because she didn't have to work didn't mean she would stop. Felling one tree wouldn't be enough on its own to give her a sore back, but the tension of the day and what would follow certainly could.

With minutes to spare, Johanna fixed herself a drink. The alcohol came from one of the local stills. It was clear and pungent, and it could probably peel the paint from the walls. It tasted like absolute shit too, not like what she would get in the Capital. But when she was home she supported the locals in the only way she could, and Chip was a good guy even if he didn't know how to ferment corn properly.

By the time she had settled down in her favorite chair, one that had moved with her from her original home, the preliminary remarks had already wrapped up in Twelve. Johanna wasn't exactly upset that she had missed the air-headed escort's praises of the capital, she'd have to listen to it up close and personal in a few hours anyway.

The cameras panned over the crowd of lined up children and Johanna took note of the thin, washed out faces. All the tributes she had met from Twelve seemed more like animals than people, like dogs that had been kicked too much. The pale, drab little monsters were usually easy pickings. Not much spirit could survive in a place like that.

"Primrose Everdeen." Johanna was startled by the way she'd let her thoughts wander, and she focused back on the action.

At first there was no movement and then a subtle shifting happened as the girls looked among themselves to find the unlucky sacrifice. Then there was movement, right near the front and Johanna let out a disappointed sigh. It was never pleasant to see a twelve year old reaped. The pretty little thing probably wouldn't make it past the first day.

Johanna leaned her head back and closed her eyes, taking a long drink and enjoying the burn. One less threat for her tributes, she supposed.

A panicked shout on the screen drew her attention. An older girl was running after the young one. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Johanna felt like her eyebrows might disappear into her hairline, but they drew down just as quickly when she scowled. That was certainly a new turn of events. As far as she was aware, District Twelve had never had a volunteer. There seemed to be a little spirit there afterall.

The girl was scared, nearly shaking in her boots. Pale and thin and half-starved looking, she climbed the stairs as the other girl was dragged away and the escort asked for her name.

Katniss Everdeen. The little kid's sister.

For just a moment, Johanna allowed herself to wonder if her brothers would have done the same for her, had they still be eligible for the games when she was reaped. She shook the thought away quickly. What they would or wouldn't have done for her was irrelevant, boys couldn't volunteer for girls anyway.

On screen Katniss was receiving, instead of applause, the three fingered salute of District Twelve. Johanna hummed to herself. She had never actually seen it before, but to see a huge crowd almost simultaneously salute was quite moving.

The reaping continued with the boys, but she didn't pay much attention to what was being said. Johanna downed the last of her drink, not taking her eyes off the image of Katniss Everdeen.

She had a feeling that she was looking at a victor.

A/N: I hope you liked this little preview and I would love to have some comments on it.

The title comes from the Civil Wars song Dust to Dust. The song really captures the overall theme that this work will be trying to convey.

There's a poll on my bio relating to this fic, more specifically relating to Peeta's place in it. The options are: Peeta Lives, or Peeta Dies. I'm sort of leaning toward Peeta Dies but only because it would make writing a little easier, also it would give me a lot of lovely angst. If you've ever read anything by me you'll know that I just love to make girls cry. One less character to deal with. If he lives it would bring out a little more drama though, so that could also be nice. This is a Joniss fic though, so his being alive will not effect the "romance."

You can vote in the poll or submit your position through a review or PM.