BET ON LOSING DOGS Hunger Games, Will you let me lose
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It wouldn't matter how close she had ever come to having a brother. He would always remain a dog. A sharp toothed beast with daggers instead of claws.
She would never feel the loss of a loving touch, she would only mourn the warm touch of hands around her throat. She would only ever know a dog that bites with a mouth full.
Prequel, the Hunger Games
He would bet on losing dogs. By the ring, he would look at their defeat, at the blood that spread out of their wounds. He look at them when they were down on the ground on the verge of tears.
It was never about them winning. A fight would only add values to their bets, and he was good at betting. He would never get anything out of it, only his name barked at in the ring. Septimus Crain, they barked in unison. No one could ever bet wrong with a boy that had been raised in chains his entire life.
At the age of nine, he had watched all sixty-seven hunger games and could recall every weapons displayed in the Cornucopia. He knew to distinguish careers from simple tributes. By age nine, he knew his destiny was to volunteer and take part in the games. When he thought about volunteering, he no longer heard barks. This time he could hear words and full sentences. It was the only thing that ever made sense to him. Perhaps it was the warm embrace that first came when he announced the news to his father or perhaps, it was the sudden attention that his family granted him. Maybe it was because suddenly, it felt like the entire district was seeing past the untamed animal he was.
