As I gazed up at her, only one word filled my mind: Beautiful. Lana sat with her back against the old oak tree, and my head rested in her lap. Her fingers played gently with my hair, her eyes lost in the horizon, watching the serene field sway in the breeze. But all I could see was her—her warmth, her strength, the way the sunlight caught in her dark hair. We sat in comfortable silence, fully aware that after today, everything might change, possibly forever. I inhaled deeply, her scent—a blend of fallen leaves and fresh morning dew—filled me with a bittersweet sense of peace. I loved her more than anything in the world.
But the weight of the Reaping loomed over us, unspoken yet unavoidable. I wished with every fiber of my being that I could take her away from this place, away from the fear that haunted every family in District 12. But we were bound here, bound by duty, and no matter how much I wanted to shield her from the possibility of being chosen, I couldn't. We had made a promise to each other once—when we both turned nineteen, we would marry, start a family. I wanted nothing more than to build that life with her, to raise children in a world where I could protect them from everything.
A drop of something cold fell on my cheek. I glanced up, expecting rain, but it was Lana's tears. Silent, steady tears that slipped down her face. I reached up, brushing them away with my thumb, and she leaned into my touch, her eyes squeezed shut as if she could block out the world. I sat up and pulled her close, feeling her body tremble.
"We have to be strong," I whispered, my voice heavy with the sadness I tried to hide. I needed to be strong for her. For Talia, too.
"I'm scared, Cole," Lana murmured, her voice fragile. "What if you're chosen? What if I am?"
My heart clenched, and I held her tighter. "No matter what happens, I will protect you. Always." The word hung in the air, a promise I desperately hoped I could keep, even though deep down, I knew it wasn't mine to control.
She nodded, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "Always?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated for just a second, then forced myself to smile. "Always."
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a soft orange glow over the field. The peace of the moment was fleeting, fragile. But for a few more minutes, we clung to it, our hands entwined as if that could somehow stave off the inevitable.
"I should get you home," I said finally, standing and offering her my hand. "Your brothers will start to wonder where you are."
She let out a soft laugh, taking my hand and letting me pull her up. "We both know they like you more than me."
I stared down at her, her black hair shimmering in the light of the sunset. Beautiful.
"What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
I leaned forward and kissed her. "I love you so much," I said as I caressed her cheek.
She smiled up at me. "I love you too." I gazed into her eyes for a few more moments before sighing. "Come on, I better get you home."
We walked in silence through the fading light, her hand in mine, both of us lost in thoughts of tomorrow. When we reached her house, she turned and buried her face in my chest, fresh tears dampening my shirt. I held her close, feeling the weight of her fear, of mine.
Before my father died he made me promise to protect my sister, no matter the cost. His words echoed through every part of my life, shaping my every decision. It was for her that I trained relentlessly, for her that I promised him I'd never let harm come her way. It was my oath.
Lana had changed over the past year. She knew what was coming. Last year, Talia reached the age where she could be chosen as a tribute. Lana also knew the moment her name was called, I wouldn't hesitate—I'd volunteer with her without a second thought. But If it's me who's chosen and she's left out of it, I stand a real chance. Years of intense training have prepared me for this, and with no one else to protect, I could win.
"It's going to be okay, Lana," I whispered, kissing the top of her head. "We'll get through this."
She nodded, pulling back slightly to look up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Goodnight, my wolf," she whispered, using the nickname she had given me long ago. "Goodnight love." I said with a smile. I kissed her forehead, and then, with a heavy heart, I turned and made my way home in silence.
When I reached home and stepped inside, I took a deep breath. I put my feelings aside and silently repeated the words my father had said before he died. Those words gave me the strength I needed. Forcing a smile, I went into the living room where my mother and sister were sitting.
When I stepped through the door, the weight of the day settled over me like a shroud.
My sister, Talia, sat on the couch, her small frame huddled next to our mother. They both looked up as I entered, their eyes filled with the same fear I'd seen in Lana's.
"Hey, you two," I said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. My sister, Talia, looked up and gave me a small smile, but I could see the worry etched in her eyes. My mother just nodded, her face a mask of stoic determination.
"How was your day, Cole?" Talia asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"It was good," I replied, sitting down next to her and ruffling her hair. "Went hunting then spent some time with Lana under the tree. You know, the usual."
Talia nodded, her eyes downcast. "Do you think... do you think everything will be okay?" she whispered.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Of course, Talia. We'll get through this, just like we always do. No matter what happens, we'll stick together. That's a promise."
My mother sighed, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. "You two should get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day."
Talia and I exchanged glances. The Reaping was always a day of dread, a day that loomed over us like a dark cloud. But we had no choice but to face it.
"Come on, let's get you to bed," I said, standing up and pulling Talia to her feet. "You'll need your strength."
As I tucked her into bed, she grabbed my hand and held on tight. "I'm scared, Cole," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
"I know, Talia. But remember what Dad always said. We have to be strong, for each other. And I promise, no matter what, I'll protect you."
She nodded, closing her eyes. "I love you, Cole."
"I love you too, Talia," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Sleep tight."
I watched her for a moment, making sure she was settled before I headed to my own room. The weight of the day pressed down on me as I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow could change everything. But for now, I clung to the hope that somehow, some way, we would make it through.
The night passed slowly. The weight of what tomorrow might bring hung heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe, let alone sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying my father's last words over and over in my mind. If my sister was chosen at the reaping then I would have to volunteer. But could I? Could I throw my life with Lana away for my sister. An image of Talia's face flashed in my mind. Yes. I could and I would.
When dawn finally broke, the sky was a dull gray, as if the world itself was mourning. I got dressed in my best clothes, knowing that appearances would matter today. My sister, a bundle of nerves, sat silently as our mother braided her hair.
We made our way to the square, where the Reaping would take place. The whole district was gathered, the atmosphere tense and somber. I spotted Lana among the crowd, her eyes finding mine instantly. She gave me a weak smile, and I nodded in return, trying to convey strength and reassurance. Other people file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, like Talia, in the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Seam or merchant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law?
I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but thankfully the only people who have caught me could be bought off with a bribe of meat or a fur pelt.
The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state. I find myself standing in a clump of seventeens from the Seam. We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. Two of the three chairs fill with Mayor Undersee, who's a tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat. Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games. The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins. Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch - this is the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is clear.
"Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen." To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.
"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor. Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off. The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket. Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature smile. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She said her voice grating on my nerves. She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here, although everyone knows she's just aching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors, not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation. Effie Trinket says as she always does, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not Talia or Lana. Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice.
"Talia Winters."
My heart stops. The world blurs and all I can hear is the sound of my sister's name echoing in my head. Talia's face goes pale, her eyes wide with shock. No. This can't be happening. Somewhere far away, I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a twelve-year-old gets chosen because no one thinks this is fair. Effie Trinket calls her name again, and Talia takes a hesitant step forward. She walks up the stage and turns to the crowd. I can see silent tears rolling down her face. I force myself to stay still and wait for the boys names. Effie asks for volunteers, but no one steps forward. My legs feel like lead as I stand there, my heart pounding in my chest."Alright it's time to choose our male tribute!" I try to silence my thoughts as Effie Trinket moves to the glass ball containing the boys' names. Effie reaches into the ball, her hand swirling around as if she's savoring the suspense. She finally pulls out a slip of paper and walks back to the podium. She smoothes it out, the crowd once again holding its collective breath.
"Peeta Mellark."
I look to the kid whose name was called. The Baker's boy, Fear. I see it in his eyes. His face is pale and he seems to be in shock. He glances at his family and then back at the podium. Peeta steps forward. He's a sturdy boy with a ruddy complexion. He's more muscular than half the boys in district 12, even stronger than a good number of the grown men. "I volunteer." My voice was like a whisper yet it carried Throughout the square. Everyone looked to me and started making a path to the podium. I felt my mother's anguished cry more than I heard it. I turned to face Lila, her eyes wide with fear and tears streaming down her cheeks. There's some confusion on the stage. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has become rusty. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy's name has been read, or girl, if a girl's name has been read, can step forward to take his or her place. In some districts, in which winning the reaping is such a great honor, people are eager to risk their lives, the volunteering is complicated. But in District 12, where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse, volunteers are all but extinct.
"W-what I... Well Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. I start passing her to take my place beside my sister when she continues speaking. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um . . . " she trails off, As I stop in place and turn to her. "I said I volunteer." My voice coming off as a growl. Effie freezes and clears her throat. "R-right." she said. With a nervous laugh, she turned her attention to the crowd. "Please welcome our District 12 Tribute, Uh what was your name?" She whispered to me. "Cole Winters." I supply.
"Cole Winters!" She shouts to the crowd. "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" trills Effie Trinket. To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, not one person claps. Not even the ones holding betting slips, the ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the Hob or the mines, or knew my father. So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong. Then something unexpected happens. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up beside Talia, and now it seems we have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to us. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love. Haymitch chooses this time to come staggering across the stage to congratulate me.
"Look at him. Look at this one!" he hollers, throwing an arm around my shoulders. I easily carry his weight. "I like him!" "Lots of . . . " He can't think of the word for a while. "Spunk!" he says triumphantly. "More than you!" he releases me and starts for the front of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts, pointing directly into a camera. Is he addressing the audience or is he so drunk he might actually be taunting the Capitol? I almost smile at the thought. Almost. But I'll never know because just as he's opening his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious. I look over to my sister who has tears coming down her face. My heart breaks because I see the fear in her eyes. I give her an encouraging smile. Then I look straight and stand as still as a statue. The mayor begins to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point - it's required - but I'm not listening to a word. I'm preparing mentally for the games. If I'm going to protect my sister I'm going to have to destroy who I am, I have to become a monster. I can't feel any remorse while in there. If I'm going to protect her then I can't feel anything. Once mayor finishes the Treaty, he motions for Talia and me to shake hands. I reach out and clasp Talia's small trembling hand in mine. The crowd watches silently as we grip each other's hands, a final act of solidarity before the inevitable separation. Her eyes lock onto mine, filled with a mix of fear and sadness.
"We'll get through this, be strong." I whisper to her, trying to sound as confident as possible.
She nods, her lip quivering. "Ok. I'll be strong, Cole. I promise."
We turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays. Our hands part, and we're guided off the stage, escorted by Peacekeepers to the Justice Building. The crowd remains silent, their defiance hanging in the air like a heavy fog. As we enter the building, the noise of the outside world is cut off, leaving only the echo of our footsteps in the dimly lit hallway. We are taken to separate rooms, where we will be allowed a few minutes to say our goodbyes to our loved ones. The door closes behind me, and I am left alone in the sterile, cold room. I sit down on the small bench, my mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming Games, of Talia, and of Lana. The door opens again, and my mother enter's probably coming from the room that holds Talia.
My mother rushes to me, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Oh, Cole," she whispers, her voice breaking. "My sweet sweet boy." "It's ok mom, Talia's going to be ok. I'm going to protect her I promise."
My mother's grip tightens around me. My mother pulls back, her eyes brimming with tears, but there's a steely resolve in her gaze. "I know you will, Cole. You're just like your father. He would be so proud of you."
Her words bring a lump to my throat. I remember my father's strength, his unyielding determination. I nod, swallowing hard. "I'll bring her back, Mom."
She caresses my cheek, her touch soothing despite the turmoil inside me. "Just remember, you're not alone. We'll be with you in spirit, every step of the way."
"And Cole. Be careful. Don't let them break you."she said sadly.
I nod, swallowing hard. "I won't, Mom. I promise."
I hear footsteps outside the door, signaling that our time is almost up. My mother kisses my forehead and stands up. "Stay strong, Son. And remember, we love you more than anything."
"I love you too, Mom," I say, watching her walk away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Next, Lana comes in, and the sight of her nearly breaks me. Her eyes are red from crying, and she rushes into my arms, holding me tightly. I held her, trying to memorize every detail of her face, every curve, every freckle. "Why did it have to be you?" she cries, her voice filled with anguish. "Why couldn't someone else have volunteered?"
"Because Talia needs me," I say softly, lifting her chin so she can see my eyes. "And I need you to be strong for her, Lana. Promise me you'll look after her, and my mom."
She nods, wiping her tears away. "I promise, I have something for you." She says as she reaches into her pocket. "I was going to give it to you on are wedding day but-" she left the rest unsaid as more tears fell. She pulled out a small, worn pendant. It's a simple black pendant with a faded engraving of a wolf. I seen it at the hob and thought of you."
"Thank you, Lana," I said, my voice thick with emotion. I took the pendant from her and clasped it around my neck. "I'll carry it with me always." I say, kissing her forehead. "I love you, Lana."
"I love you too, Cole," she whispers, her voice breaking. "Always."
"Always," I echo, pulling her into one last embrace. The door opens once more, and the Peacekeeper steps in, signaling that our time is up.
"Goodbye." I say, giving her one last kiss.
"Be strong, my wolf," she says, her voice trembling.
I nod, watching as she leaves the room. She leaves the room, and I'm left alone once more. This was probably the last time I was going to see her. As I wait for the Peacekeepers to come for me, my mind races with memories of our moments together. Her laughter, her tears, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. All of it fuels my resolve.
A Peacekeeper enters the room, breaking my reverie. "It's time," he says gruffly. I stand up, my legs feeling unsteady but my heart resolute. I walk out of the room and down the hall, every step echoing the gravity of what lies ahead.
We are herded into a vehicle that will take us to the train station. I see Talia already seated inside, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. I sit next to her, taking her hand in mine. "Talia, you have to listen to me," I say, my voice steady. "When we get to the Capitol, stick close to me. Do everything I tell you. We have to be smart, and we have to be strong. Do you understand?"
She nods, her lip quivering. "I understand, Cole. I'll do my best."
"Good girl," I say, pulling her into a hug. "I love you, Talia. We'll get through this together." "I love you too, Cole," she whispers, clinging to me. We reach the train station and enter the train. The inside of it was a stark contrast to district 12. Plush seats, crystal glasses filled with sparkling water, and a dining car with more food than our district saw in a month. The train starts moving, and we sit down, the reality of our situation sinking in. We're heading into the unknown, to fight to the death, but we have each other.
We sit in silence, the countryside flashing by outside the window. The train speeds toward the Capitol, and with each passing moment, the weight of the Games settles heavier on our shoulders. But for now, I focus on one thing: keeping Talia safe. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter what.