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Soooo this is my hunger games fanfiction called Reaping's Daughter :) please read and give feedback-but no bad feedback. Constructive plz :) I will post soon

Teal Skylark never expected to be reaped for the 132nd Hunger Games. She only thought some other unlucky girl would be chosen, and she'd go back to her normal life-except for the fact of watching the games. She never expected that only in a few hours her life would take an unexpected turn and she would plunged into a world of terror and despair. Teal never expected to meet Noa Baxwoll, the infuriating yet charming 17 year old boy who would have a part in the changing of her life. But sure enough, this nightmare turns into reality, and Teal realises she's in a living hell once the games begin. Who will survive? Who will be crowned victor? Who...will...fall?

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Reaping's Daughter

Chapter One-Teal Skylark

One small, yellow dandelion petal flutters from high up in my Sycamore tree, and comes to rest softly and silently on the leaf-covered ground. Another follows, landing a few millimetres away from the first. A small breeze wafts through the wood, buffeting the bushes and plants, swirling through the leaves stuck on the highest branches of the trees. The petals roll in the direction the wind blows, and are picked up in the gust. They spiral through the air, circling one another, climbing up into the trees. And then they are gone.

The breeze fades away. The leaves of the trees cease to blow. The shrubs on the ground sit motionless. A bird, hidden in a far-away tree, begins to whistle a small, placid song. A deer lopes through the trees and then halts. His ears pricked, the deer’s head darts from left to right, and then canters away, fleeing whatever danger he had sensed.

I pick another petal from the flower with my rough hands, and let it tumble to the ground. Right now, I feel more peace than in any other moment in my life. The funny thing is, most people in Panem would be overcome with anxiety at this moment. Why? Well, only because it’s probably the most important yet terrifying day of the year, which occurs annually and never ends! It’s the day of Reaping, the day when one (un)lucky young man and woman are selected at random in each district to participate as tributes in the most significant event each year-the Hunger Games. The words make me shudder with revulsion. Only the most merciless, heartless, coldblooded person in the world would have invented these games. Why, you ask again? Because the Hunger Games is a fight to the death between 12 boys and 12 girls ranging from ages 12 to 18. Only one comes out in the end, which almost always a Career tribute, the tribute that trains his whole life to become an expert at brutal combat and murder. They come from the wealthy districts 1, 2 and 4, and normally volunteer as tributes when they’re old enough or ready enough to participate. The other tributes are either youths that have no experience in survival or killing whatsoever, or those fortunate enough to have some experience at all.

I tear off a small clump of petals and drop them from the branch I’m resting on. One half of the petals on the flower are gone now. I pluck the rest until only the green, bowl-like ovary remains. What’s inside is what I’m looking for. I dig my dirty nails into the ovary and pull it apart. White liquid spurts out and a drop lands on my cheek. Instantly I feel a small burning sensation, and I wince and wipe the drop off. The burning continues on the finger I wiped it with but only for a second, and then disappears.

A smirk curls upwards on my face. This isn’t a normal dandelion, as you may have guessed. It’s an aureolin-or a dandeliar, as most prefer to call it. The flower has a similar shape and size to a dandelion, but is completely inedible. The white liquid is poisonous enough to kill a grown man, and has no cure. If one mistakes an aureolin for a dandelion and consumes it, they would experience a burning sensation as I did, then vomiting, pain to the stomach, spasms and eventually death. It’s only tell are the few golden stripes spread randomly on the petals.

I chuck the dandeliar onto the ground and sigh. The flower actually reminds me of another poisonous plant-nightlock berries. They look like blueberries, but actually contain poison inside, and are said to kill whoever eats one before they reach the stomach. I remember a very famous incident involving these berries and a young couple that occurred in the arena of the 74th Hunger Games. My grandmother told me their story long ago.

They were two sixteen-year-old tributes from district 12 that were reaped for the 74th Hunger Games-Katniss and Peeta. Throughout the training, interviews and the games, a love affair brewed between them that caught the attention of all of Panem-in both good and bad ways. Together they won the 74th Hunger Games, after threatening to commit suicide by eating nightlock berries, as they never dreamed of fighting to death. Although they claimed it was an act of love, the gamemakers and President Snow-the president of that time-saw it as an act of defiance. The following year the couple were reaped from the existing pool of victors in district 12 for the Quarter Quell, an event for the Hunger Games that happens every 25 years and involves a different twist to the arena or the tributes each time. The games ended when Katniss destroyed the force field surrounding the arena, which set off a great rebellion-the districts against the Capitol, the wealthy part of Panem. But unfortunately, they were defeated. District 12 was blown off the map along with all its citizens, as a reminder that not even the largest army could overthrow the power of the Capitol.

I look up at the blazing sun and guess that the time must be around 6.30, the normal time the workday starts for the lumberjacks. Although, the lumberjacks won’t be out working today. But my family will be awake soon. And they’ll be worrying about me-I had snuck out without anyone knowing. I shimmy down the large Sycamore through the branches and thud onto the ground. Easily I find my path that I always take, worn down day after day by my boots, and follow it until I arrive at the electric fence that borders off District 7. A slight humming reaches my ears and I know the fence’s electricity has been powered up. That’s no problem though. The fence is good for keeping wild animals out and district citizens in, but not tree-climbers like me. I’ve been climbing since age 6.

I find a tree just next to the fence with low branches, and make my way up until I’m higher than the fence. Just on the other side is a thick strip of grass and then the tree plantation where the lumberjacks fell the trees. I jump off the branch I’ve climbed along and tumble onto the ground. Pain sears up my ankles and I wince. When I first did this, I twisted my left ankle and wrist, but now I’m used to the pain.

Through the identical rows of trees, I can see the many houses of district 7. I can’t see anyone but I know people will be out in the streets soon. Then I dust myself off, and begin to walk through the empty plantation towards my home.