Winterfrost (A Hunger Games Fanfiction)

Chapter One

Unsheath. Aim. Throw.

That is my mantra whenever a knife is thrown. By now, every one of them should meet its mark. Hunting has become part of my routine since my father died. Food is scarce in my hometown and there is even no point in buying food from the market since we can barely go by financially.

But I'm not alone at this party. My childhood friend, Perry, also has similar duties, providing for his family. We were born in District 12 from mining families, and well, we have enough money to go by for now but we aren't Capitol-rich. God knows why they have to torture all of us.

"You know you said that out loud?"

I stared at Perry when he suddenly spoke. "Did I?"

"Yes, you did," he replied. "And I agree with you. But don't say anything about them in case you get chosen at the Reaping today."

The Reaping. This year marks the beginning of the 86th Hunger Games. After what happened in the Uprising, everyone, especially the people in my district, is afraid of what is going to happen to them more than ever, even if it only has been 11 years since.

"Have you done the Tesserae?" I asked as I threw another knife towards an innocent beaver that I didn't want to kill but had to.

"Yeah, have you?" he bounced the question back to me, in which I nodded in affirmation.

After the last of our game had been gathered, we headed back home to prepare for that dreaded event.

~ ~ ~

Many thoughts were running through my head as my mother finished braiding my hair. Honestly, I could do it myself but every Reaping, I felt scared that it might be the last time she'll do it for me.

"You look as beautiful as ever, Ryalle," she complimented.

I don't feel beautiful. In the last 4 years, all I felt was dread. Every single Reaping, I would always be scared that I will be chosen but if my sister, Clara, was the one chosen, that will be the worst thing that can ever happen. Even if this is her third Reaping, we are still trying our best to protect her, even when luck isn't on our side.

"Mom, no matter what happens, we will live," I stated in a serious tone.

I then finished the job of braiding Clara's hair. Her hair is the color of mahogany, just like my father's. Honestly, our hair is similar in shade, only that mine is a bit lighter.

"Okay, you're done, I announced as I kissed her on the forehead.

She then stood up to look at the mirror. Every time she does, it's like she's a little girl all over again, curious about how she looks, only without the happiness because of the Reaping today.

When every one of us was ready to go, we headed out.

It only took a few minutes for us to reach the Hall of Justice from our house in the Seam, the poorest part of our district. Hordes of families and their children come here from all over the district for the Reaping every year. Being chosen to represent Twelve is like a curse. Most of the time, our tributes usually die in the bloodbath or are stupid enough to be spotted by the Careers, the tributes from District 1,2, and sometimes 4, and killed.

"What are the peacekeepers doing?" a 12-year-old girl asked.

"They are getting our blood drawn so we can be identified," another girl, older than her, replied.

As we went through that action, we then went to our spots, to wait for the actual thing to begin.

Once everyone gathered in front of the building, Effie Trinket, the escort of our district from the Capitol, walked onto the stage set up. She first introduced a documentary about the Dark Days, and how the Capitol was able to quell the Uprising. I regularly don't pay attention to the pleasantries like that because who has room to be happy at this wretched thing?

"Ladies first."

That brought me back to reality. I watched as she walked to the bowl with all the girls' names in them. There won't be any chance that Clara will be reaped because her name is in there only three times while there are several others. I also watched as she picked up one name and unfolded the flap.

"The female tribute for District 12 is..."

I bit my lip in anticipation and anxiety.

"... Ryalle Farashnid."

I sighed, knowing that this was expected. It was the Tesserae's effect. The fact that I took three for everyone in my family, including myself multiplied the names in the bowl by three. By now, twenty names are in the bowl, and one was drawn.

Everyone looked towards me as I walked towards the stage. I knew the rest of the girls are relieved that it wasn't them, yet I can feel their fear for me, that I will die. Strangely, I don't feel scared for my life at all. Instead, I felt prepared, like I was made for this.

"Let us give a round of applause for the female tribute of District 12, Ryalle Farashnid!" she announced aloud a few seconds after I took my place. With the district's poor reputation in the Games in mind, nobody else clapped except her. I honestly wonder how she felt every time our tributes die each year, but as the escort, she probably has to have a facade about her.

Effie then walked over to the other Reaping bowl, where she also took her time to pick a name. Once she did, she then walked back to the microphone.

"The male tribute for District 12 is..." she then unfolded the flap and pulled the name out of the envelope. "Elias Jones."

My eyes instantly looked towards the not familiar but familiar mop of blonde hair. Did I recognize him or talk to him before? Like this district is a small town but, anyway. I could tell that he was a little nervous but hopefully, he'll get used to it. As for myself, I'm doing this all for my sister.

"These are your tributes."

~ ~ ~

At this time, everyone was already mourning the loss of their two tributes. Honestly, they don't need to mourn because I have a feeling that this district will finally have a winner in years.

Meanwhile, I heard the door open, and in came Clara and my mother.

"Ryalle!" Clara yelled out as she ran over to give me a hug.

All the time I have is limited, but I want to spend most of it reassuring her that I will be fine.

"Clara, listen to me. Even if I have a chance to win, there is still a chance that I will die. If I do die, take care of mom," I said. "She'll need you."

"I will," she nodded, sobbing. "And... take this."

She clasped my hand with hers, and I felt something transfer to my palm.

"Your amethyst pin, the family heirloom," she breathed out. "If father was still here, he would've done the same, to protect you."

I examined the pin in my hand. It was made out of pure silver and that material formed a ring-like shape, with a single amethyst stone in the center of the ring. It was believed that our ancestors from the pre-Dark Days mined out the materials, and created this to pass down from generation to generation, most likely knowing what is going to happen.

"Thank you," I said as I gave her and my mother a hug.

Our moment was interrupted when a Peacekeeper slammed open the door and sternly said, "Three minutes is up." Seconds later, he pulled my mom and Clara out of the hug. I wish that our time together was longer, but the authorities here are not merciful at all.

I was left in silence for a moment until the door opened again. This time, it was Perry who entered.

"Perry!" I called out.

Both of us threw ourselves at each other, hugging for as long as we could.

"Rye," he muttered.

"Perry," I looked up at him, adjusting myself so that I'm still in this hug. "If I die in that arena–"

"You will not die in that arena," he interrupted. "You're strong-willed. Don't let anything else stop you from completing your task. Those knives? You're good at wielding them; it makes you look like that one tribute from Two, but she died, unfortunately. But you're not going to end up that way. Now get out there and win, and no matter what, I'll always cheer for you."

I smiled with confidence. "I will be back."