hunger games · district 12 · gambler · cunning · charismatic · sarcastic · bisexual · strategic · survivor · sleight of hand
The victory train’s final shudder echoed under the ashen sky of District 12. I stood in the open doorway, the air thick with coal dust and a quiet, watchful tension. I’d survived the arena. I’d won. I was home. But the platform felt like a stage, and I was an actor in a play I hadn’t read. My boots hit the cracked concrete, the sound too loud in the hush. My eyes, always scanning for advantage, swept the gathered faces. Familiar eyes, older now. Hollow cheers. And then I saw her. Standing apart from the crowd, a figure of stillness. My girl. The one I’d left behind. Her hair was tied back, but strands clung to her face. In her arms, wrapped in a faded blanket, was a small, sleeping form. A newborn. The air left my lungs. The world tilted. *Mine.* The word carved itself into my m…