Status: In Progress
The Instigator
01.
Survival.
That was what was driving me five years ago as I listened for the nonexistent hum of the electrical fence stretched out before me. There were spurts when it went on, so I had to be careful when first approaching it. I decided it was safe, then pulled back a section at the bottom to crawl underneath. I readjusted my bow and arrows when I got up, walking into the forest a bit and checking the traps I had set here yesterday. It was while I had my back turned that I heard the leaves crunch behind me. Then, a human’s breath. My ears were trained for this kind of thing, so I lifted my arrow and turned to my perpetrator.
“Who are you?” I barked at the boy I now held at the end of the arrow. He put up his hands and let his knife drop as he turned to me, looking surprised at my appearance, I suppose. I was surprised at his. Well-developed muscles, broad shoulders, he had the Seam look in him-- dark hair, gray eyes, prominent facial structure, plush lips, but chapped a bit. There was some dark soot on his left shoulder, also a sign he was from District 12 like me.
“Gale Hawthorne,” he said slowly. I had heard about him in town before, and at school. Gale Hawthorne, age 13. Gale Hawthorne, the notoriously hot boy in our district every girl turned to goo over. Gale Hawthorne, the boy who was forced to quit school after his father died in the same mine explosion as mine did. I added Gale Hawthorne, the illegal hunter, when I saw a trap peeking out of the top of the bag on his back. His eyes squinted as he said, “Who are you? I could swear I’ve seen you before.”
“Amari Dossen. There’s many places you may have seen me before, though I don’t know why you would’ve seen me recently. I’ve only been in town for school, and I heard you don’t frequent there much these days,” I said to him in my always confident attitude. A smirk crossed over his face, and I lowered my bow and arrow, deciding it was okay to trust him.
“Don’t have time to anymore. Got a family to provide for,” he said, quickly losing the smile. I pressed my lips together, but gave him a comforting smile at the last moment.
“You, too?” I asked him. His eyebrows raised a little bit, but hardly responds otherwise. I elaborated as I said, “You might have seen me at the entrance of the same mine that killed both our fathers.”
He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or sad. To distract himself, he looked down at the ground, and found the trap I was trying to work my game out of. He smiled and asked, “Did you create that trap?” When I nodded, he leant down and held it in his fingers, smiling and nodding his head. “Pretty impressive. For a girl.”
I sat down with him, shoved him, and laughed. I could see the tension relax in his shoulders, and that’s when my friendship with Gale Hawthorne began.
I had been thinking about this moment, one of my favorite memories, while I walked to where I would meet up with Gale and our other hunter friend, Katniss Everdeen. She was a year younger than I was, lost her father in the same mine explosion that took Gale’s and mine, and was even better with a bow and arrow than I was. I spotted Katniss, standing on the corner, waiting patiently for Gale or me to show. When she saw me, she smiled tensely, and I give her a nod. It’s no time for smiling. Today is Reaping Day.
To keep it simple, we live in an area called Panem, which is split into twelve districts, the elite Capitol reigning over all. Many years ago, 74 to be exact, there were thirteen districts. But there was a revolt, and the districts rebelled against the Capitol unsuccessfully. If you asked anyone, District 13, the leader of the rebellious districts, was obliterated. But when someone from District 13, like myself, was asked what happened, they answered that District 13 made a pact with the Capitol to stay low and quit the war, which led to the rebel’s loss. Everybody still believed the former statement, except myself and the other thirteeners, as we call ourselves.
By birth, I am a thirteener. By childhood and the present, I am from District 12. If I told anybody I was a thirteener, I’d be called crazy, or I’d have to explain the intricate plan the District 13 government had been concocting over those long 74 years since the end of the first rebellion to rebel again. And I would never release the secrets I was practically created to hold.
Gale’s presence made me stop thinking about what was going on in District 13 at this moment. He sauntered up, his callused and scarred hands in his pockets. He gave a stressed smile to both Katniss and I. Because his family struggled with food, as well as Katniss’, both of them had entered their names extra times to receive more food. Because I now secretly grew my own food for me and my four siblings, and I had the hunting, I was only forced to enter my names a few times to receive extra food. I was at less of a risk than them both.
“Prim was freaking out before we left,” Katniss confided in us as we headed to the pens where we would be separated by ages and genders. “I told her not to worry, that so many people have had to enter extra times to get extra food. Her name is only in there once.”
Something turned in my stomach then, a premonition about something bad to come. Before I could tell Katniss my worries, Gale spoke up, soothing Katniss, who seemed to be shaking. “Katniss, my name will be picked before anybody else’s. I saw the numbers. I’m in there the most times.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Katniss mumbled. I laughed a little bit, trying to relieve the tension like I always do. Katniss and Gale both gave small smiles before we squeezed each other, then went to our respective pens.
I stayed to the far left of my pen, and Gale stayed to the far right of his so we could see each other. Katniss was supposed to be in the back corner of hers, but was pushed to the middle. I bit my lip, and all fell silent as Effie Trinket, the pink-haired representaitve for our district in the Capitol, walked onstage.
She gave a brief overview of what the Games were and why they were here, as if we had no idea. Then, she pulled forward the plastic globe that held thousands of slips of paper, sliding her hand in and rummaging it around a bit. She plucked out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and everybody’s breath caught.
“Primrose Everdeen!”
That was what was driving me five years ago as I listened for the nonexistent hum of the electrical fence stretched out before me. There were spurts when it went on, so I had to be careful when first approaching it. I decided it was safe, then pulled back a section at the bottom to crawl underneath. I readjusted my bow and arrows when I got up, walking into the forest a bit and checking the traps I had set here yesterday. It was while I had my back turned that I heard the leaves crunch behind me. Then, a human’s breath. My ears were trained for this kind of thing, so I lifted my arrow and turned to my perpetrator.
“Who are you?” I barked at the boy I now held at the end of the arrow. He put up his hands and let his knife drop as he turned to me, looking surprised at my appearance, I suppose. I was surprised at his. Well-developed muscles, broad shoulders, he had the Seam look in him-- dark hair, gray eyes, prominent facial structure, plush lips, but chapped a bit. There was some dark soot on his left shoulder, also a sign he was from District 12 like me.
“Gale Hawthorne,” he said slowly. I had heard about him in town before, and at school. Gale Hawthorne, age 13. Gale Hawthorne, the notoriously hot boy in our district every girl turned to goo over. Gale Hawthorne, the boy who was forced to quit school after his father died in the same mine explosion as mine did. I added Gale Hawthorne, the illegal hunter, when I saw a trap peeking out of the top of the bag on his back. His eyes squinted as he said, “Who are you? I could swear I’ve seen you before.”
“Amari Dossen. There’s many places you may have seen me before, though I don’t know why you would’ve seen me recently. I’ve only been in town for school, and I heard you don’t frequent there much these days,” I said to him in my always confident attitude. A smirk crossed over his face, and I lowered my bow and arrow, deciding it was okay to trust him.
“Don’t have time to anymore. Got a family to provide for,” he said, quickly losing the smile. I pressed my lips together, but gave him a comforting smile at the last moment.
“You, too?” I asked him. His eyebrows raised a little bit, but hardly responds otherwise. I elaborated as I said, “You might have seen me at the entrance of the same mine that killed both our fathers.”
He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or sad. To distract himself, he looked down at the ground, and found the trap I was trying to work my game out of. He smiled and asked, “Did you create that trap?” When I nodded, he leant down and held it in his fingers, smiling and nodding his head. “Pretty impressive. For a girl.”
I sat down with him, shoved him, and laughed. I could see the tension relax in his shoulders, and that’s when my friendship with Gale Hawthorne began.
I had been thinking about this moment, one of my favorite memories, while I walked to where I would meet up with Gale and our other hunter friend, Katniss Everdeen. She was a year younger than I was, lost her father in the same mine explosion that took Gale’s and mine, and was even better with a bow and arrow than I was. I spotted Katniss, standing on the corner, waiting patiently for Gale or me to show. When she saw me, she smiled tensely, and I give her a nod. It’s no time for smiling. Today is Reaping Day.
To keep it simple, we live in an area called Panem, which is split into twelve districts, the elite Capitol reigning over all. Many years ago, 74 to be exact, there were thirteen districts. But there was a revolt, and the districts rebelled against the Capitol unsuccessfully. If you asked anyone, District 13, the leader of the rebellious districts, was obliterated. But when someone from District 13, like myself, was asked what happened, they answered that District 13 made a pact with the Capitol to stay low and quit the war, which led to the rebel’s loss. Everybody still believed the former statement, except myself and the other thirteeners, as we call ourselves.
By birth, I am a thirteener. By childhood and the present, I am from District 12. If I told anybody I was a thirteener, I’d be called crazy, or I’d have to explain the intricate plan the District 13 government had been concocting over those long 74 years since the end of the first rebellion to rebel again. And I would never release the secrets I was practically created to hold.
Gale’s presence made me stop thinking about what was going on in District 13 at this moment. He sauntered up, his callused and scarred hands in his pockets. He gave a stressed smile to both Katniss and I. Because his family struggled with food, as well as Katniss’, both of them had entered their names extra times to receive more food. Because I now secretly grew my own food for me and my four siblings, and I had the hunting, I was only forced to enter my names a few times to receive extra food. I was at less of a risk than them both.
“Prim was freaking out before we left,” Katniss confided in us as we headed to the pens where we would be separated by ages and genders. “I told her not to worry, that so many people have had to enter extra times to get extra food. Her name is only in there once.”
Something turned in my stomach then, a premonition about something bad to come. Before I could tell Katniss my worries, Gale spoke up, soothing Katniss, who seemed to be shaking. “Katniss, my name will be picked before anybody else’s. I saw the numbers. I’m in there the most times.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Katniss mumbled. I laughed a little bit, trying to relieve the tension like I always do. Katniss and Gale both gave small smiles before we squeezed each other, then went to our respective pens.
I stayed to the far left of my pen, and Gale stayed to the far right of his so we could see each other. Katniss was supposed to be in the back corner of hers, but was pushed to the middle. I bit my lip, and all fell silent as Effie Trinket, the pink-haired representaitve for our district in the Capitol, walked onstage.
She gave a brief overview of what the Games were and why they were here, as if we had no idea. Then, she pulled forward the plastic globe that held thousands of slips of paper, sliding her hand in and rummaging it around a bit. She plucked out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and everybody’s breath caught.
“Primrose Everdeen!”
♠ ♠ ♠
I just finished the Hunger Games series, and I love Gale TO DEATH. But Peeta is so much better for Katniss, so I decided to rewrite the Hunger Games a bit, taking bits and pieces from the original books by Suzanne Collins. If you've never read the books before, I HIGHLY recommend it, especially before the first movie comes out in March :) P.S. Amari's whole past and purpose will be explained in much detail throughout the story.