June, 72 ADD

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"Ladies first?"

As it was every year. Dewda approached the bowl that couldn't have had more than a few names per kid. There wasn't much of a need to buy entries in District 4, they got lucky like that. But luck only runs so far. Dewda Wildwood put her hand in the bowl, her long blue nails touched seemingly every entry, before she plucked one. With the paper in hand, she approached the microphone once more. She moved her, also blue, hair out of her face. She always did try to suit the aesthetic of the district, and she always seemed to fail. But the vibrant blue contrasted brightly off of her brown skin, it was kind of pretty. All the girls ages 12-18 stared at her, waiting to hear the name. She did always seem to take her time.

    Silence as she peeled the envelope open. The breathing in the crowd got heavier. Hearts pounded in every girl's ear. It was ages, it was years before Dewda finally opened the entry and read off the name.

    "Kallan Odair!" Dewda's breath hitched just after she'd said it, she knew that name. "Kallan...Odair."

Kallan's ears were already ringing, but girls were already making way for her to head towards the front. All she could do was try to remember to breathe. She felt like she was underwater, and not in a good way. Her lungs felt heavy, her whole body wanted to collapse in on itself. After a second she heard people whisper her name. Unwillingly, her feet started moving. They weren't heading to Dewda, but at the man behind her. The man being held back by Peacekeepers. Her gaze lifted, and she finally heard him, too.

    "No, NO! Not her!" He begged, fighting to get away. "Anyone but her! Please," Finnick was trying to break free, but Kallan stopped being able to see it, her eyes watered, she felt like she wanted to throw up. "Someone volunteer!" The feeling of vomiting persisted. No way was her brother trying to beg someone else to die in her place. Her green eyes locked to his matching ones and she silently begged him to stop. She pulled herself up onto the stage, looking at Dewda, then behind her, where her brother had finally shaken the Peacekeepers. The next thing she saw was Finnick's shoulder, his hair. Her breath came out, and it came out against his shoulder.

She grasped him, gasping for air against her brother. Her tears stained his linen shirt, only until the peacekeepers pulled him off of her again. Dewda's hand found her shoulder, pulling her over to herself. Kallan looked over her shoulder frantically at Finnick, but Dewda's grip was gently pulling her towards the people. "You'll see him very soon," she promised quietly, pulling the girl to the front of the stage. Kallan looked through her blurred vision at all the people. "That was your brother, wasn't it?" she spoke into the microphone, for all to hear. Kallan nodded hollowly. "Well, maybe winning the Games runs in the family."

Whatever happened next was a complete blur, Kallan had already started to try and figure out how to get back to her brother. Lochlan, that was the name of her tribute partner. She'd gotten that much information before they shoved her onto the train. She had no one to say goodbye to, not yet at least. Her brother would be coming with her, for most of her training. She had a week with him. But she intended to have far more time. It was just them, there was no other option than to get back to him.


Once she could breathe again she felt Finnick hugging her waist once more. A stifled breath, sob, was released against him. They started picking up. Short, quick breaths, into her brother's white shirt, still wet with her tears from the reaping. She tried hard to catch her breath, but Finnick wasn't rushing her. He was rubbing her back, trying to help her calm down. From over her shoulder, Mags caught his eye. She could see the fear. She knew these kids. That was his baby sister, and now he had to train her on how not to die, but once she was in the arena, there would be nothing he could do. His gaze begged Mags to help him, while his sister still shook against his shoulder. He pulled back, his hands on her cheeks. He gently brushed her tears with his thumb.

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