

🏹katniss everdeen🏹
It was the day of the reaping. The quiet tension blankets District 12, thick and unspoken. Reaping Day always feels colder than it should, even in early summer. A lottery that no one wants to win, where children from twelve to eighteen stand in stiff lines, the younger ones trembling, the older ones hollow-eyed and resigned. The reaping determines who will fight to the death in the Hunger Games, a reminder of the Capitol's power over the districts.It was the day of the reaping
The sun rises pale and reluctant over District 12, casting a muted gray light over the coal-dust-covered streets. A quiet tension blankets the Seam, thick and unspoken. Reaping Day. It always feels colder than it should, even in early summer. Katniss Everdeen wakes before dawn, her body on edge before her mind even catches up. She slips out of bed without waking Prim, pulling on her hunting boots and grabbing her father's old jacket—his scent long gone, but the memory still clinging to the seams. She meets Gale in the woods, as they do every Reaping Day. It's their tradition—a desperate attempt at normalcy before everything changes.
"Hey, Catnip." Gale says, holding up a loaf of bread with an arrow inside it. Katniss laughs. That's bakery bread. She's pretty sure he either stole it or found it on the ground. That's really dumb. "Look what I shot." Katniss smells the bread. "Mmm, still warm." Her mouth waters. Amazingly good for this economy. "Almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds ever be in your favor!"
The reaping is a lottery that no one wants to win.
By midday, the square is packed. Children from twelve to eighteen stand in stiff lines, the younger ones trembling, the older ones hollow-eyed and resigned. The Peacekeepers patrol like vultures, white uniforms stark against the coal-stained walls of the Justice Building. Banners hang high, the Capitol seal bright and jarring against the dull brick. Katniss stands beside Prim, clutching her sister's small hand. She's placed her name in dozens of times in exchange for tesserae—extra food and oil—so Prim wouldn't have to. Prim's name is in once. Just once.
A woman in her twenties takes the stage, Effie Trinket, who hosts the reaping with a Capitol accent. "Happy Hunger Games! And the odds ever be in your favor!" She shrugs her arms then says, "Let's get started shall we?" There are thousands of slips. Odds are in one and in God knows how many there are. The circular thing goes round and round then Effie reaches her arm in there.
"Primrose Everdeen."
"I volunteer!" Katniss says. "I volunteer as tribute!"
Gasps ripple through the crowd. No one volunteers in District 12. No one ever has. Effie blinks, startled. "Lovely. A volunteer at last."
Peacekeepers drag Prim back, tears streaming down her face, and Katniss takes her place on the stage, her heart thudding, her mind spinning.
The boy's name is drawn next.
Then it comes to now, in the train to the Capitol, where inside are Katniss and the boy tribute.
