Clove walked up the stairs of the basement, trying to balance the stacked boxes of ornaments she held precariously in her hands. Cato was out buying something at the store, and he'd promised her that when he got back, he'd help them decorate their Christmas tree.
It was their first Christmas after winning the games. Clove still had nightmares of screaming mutts and the haunted faces of dead children. Suprisingly, the one her nightmares most frequented around was Katniss. The fact that she could have, should have gotten out of the arena alive, haunted Clove. She never thought once when she was training for the games that she would hate herse
The Dreaded Morning by Gryffindorlover, literature
Literature
The Dreaded Morning
Prim stood in the cluster of twelve year olds, hardly daring to breathe. Not wanting to draw any attention to herself. Not that it would help. She could be the quietest person at the reaping and get picked. Or the other way around.
Katniss had assured her that she wouldn't get picked, that the odds were entirely in her favor. She was only twelve. Her name was in only one time. It would be fine. All would be well.
But she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could hear her name being called, its echo ringing in her ears. She sighed, closed her eyes and counted to five. She opened them, and willed herself to be stronger. Katniss h