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❛ who's in the shadows? who's ready to play? are we the hunters? or are we the prey? ❜ ─── ruelle
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THE HUNGER GAMES IS an imminent death sentence to the tributes from District Nine. With a measly total of two past Victors in the last sixty-eight years, it's common knowledge that Nine is weak, and it doesn't thrive in the chaos.
Despite being keenly aware of this fact, Lenora Naverro decided to volunteer.
Goodness can be fatal, she learned. Lenora felt Death's icy chill on Reaping Day, tickling at her neck. She already knew her demise was on the cards ── it was inevitable as a poor little weakling from Nine ── yet her hand still flew into the air and the words "I volunteer as tribute" spilled from her lips irregardless.
The enormous crowd in the Capitol, watching the camera pan over the fields of wheat and the gaunt faces of the hungry, just saw another dead girl.
But, perhaps the Capitol underestimated her; it was a yearly curse to think little of the 'weak.' Maybe Lenora underestimated herself. Before she even stepped foot into that arena, her vision was impaired by fragments of her own death, envisioned with a snarling Career holding the hilt of a sword that was embedded in her gut.
