My first fanfic, but you don't need to be nice. This is the 98th Hunger Games, the Rebellion failed. Peeta has died from old age, but Katniss is still mentoring children. This is the story of one of them. Please review. I enjoy every one of them, even the simple ones.

~C.K.

"It's beautiful, Philla."

The flame's shadows dance across my mother's taught cheekbones, casting dark shadows under her eyebrows. It turns her eyes into dark, lifeless holes. But she is smiling. This is all I care about.

I watch for a moment longer as the flames gently lick up the sides of the perfectly whittled mocking jay. I wait for a moment longer until the wood is slightly burned, giving it an ancient look, then blow it out. Orangey-red embers fly away from the carving, swirling down to the floor and settling on the dirt. I stamp them out with my boots.

I scoop up the little bird in the palm of my hand and savor the lingering the warmth until it disappears. My mother's smile fades away also, now that my creation is complete. I try to savor that, too.

Granted, the past month or so had not been easier for her. The miscarriage of my soon to be brother and sister had sent her into a withdrawn depression. She had always wanted children when she was sure she could provide a good life for them. She had never forgave herself for having me at sixteen.

But fifteen years later she had me and my little brother Kona, who had only just turned three. She had my father who, though he was usually in the mines, loved her unconditionally. She had a life in front of her, one that couldn't be put on hold. Not if we all wanted to survive.

I just had to keep trying, and I knew I would get it. The magic trigger that would coax her out of her depression like a snake from a basket.

My fire carvings were a favorite of hers to watch. I had started making them when I was twelve to calm my always-frayed nerves, until it was something I did whenever I felt even slightly panicked. They were my drug.

At first they were of trivial things; flowers and buttons and other miscellaneous items. But then I started to carve out my feelings. It made me feel better, like I was taking a piece of my own worries or desperate dreams and carving them out of my heart with my dulled knife, leaving peace in its place. The fire was captivating, too. Sometimes, when I had spare money, I would scrape together enough to buy synthetic fire, just to watch my little figurines flicker in the glow. It soothed me.

There was a sharp knock on the door, two taps and one booming punch that made the door rattle in its frame. Rome.

Rome was my best friend since birth. Our mothers had been friends at the time we were born, and had lumped us together as baby's just so they could gossip and be together. I literally grew up with him by my side.

I open the door with a grin. "Hey," I say.

"Hey yourself, Philly," he says back, a wry smile on his face. He strides in and sits next to my mother, saying hello and asking how she's feeling.

That was the nice thing about Rome. He always tried to put the feelings of others into life's equation.

I plop down next to him. "So what's up?"

He smiles and settles down on the couch, work clothes leaving a slight inky smudge on the back. It doesn't matter, though. Our couch is already extremely filthy, seeing as it hadn't been replaced in over fifteen years.

"Just thought you might like to join me in some pre-Reaping festivities?" he asked, grinning. Sure, he was lucky. This was his second to last Reaping. He was nearly free.

But my stomach squirms at the thought of all the little pieces of paper he had filled out in his careful, ordered handwriting. Fourty chances to be sent to his death. I clutch my wooden bird tight. The odds aren't that bad, I tell myself.

I'm better off then him. Though I signed up for all the tesserae I could get, my total still only amount to twenty four. It'll all be okay, I tell myself.

I need to get rid of my anxiety, so I smile and say, "Sure." But I turn to my mother anyways. "If it's okay with you?"

She nods and gives as small, sad smile. "You kids have fun. That's what this day is supposed to be all about, anyways." She gives a tiny shake of her head in a disbelieving sort of way, then sends us off.

Rome's cheeriness wears away as he takes a last look at my mom before the door swings shut. It turns to worry.

"So she's not getting any better," he asks. Genuine care is in his eyes.

I shake my head. "Nothing works." I take out my little bird. "She liked this one, though."

He grins at the sight of it, then fishes around in his pocket, drawing out his own little carving I had made for him when I was twelve. It was a crudely shaped fish with "Rome" carved into it. It was meant to represent his old job as a fishermen, but it ended up looking like a boxy vase. I still blushed when I saw the awfulness of it, but it made me happy that he carried it with him wherever he went.

"Mine's still the best." He pockets it, then brings out something else. His tone becomes hushed, a sort of awed reverence seeping into his voice.

"Just got this one yesterday. Beautiful, right?"

Rome was now not only a miner, but a jeweler's apprentice. Every day he walked five miles up to the merchant class area to study how to craft impossibly beautiful things inlaid with beautiful jewels.

The one he held in his hand was a deep ocean blue, the color of my mother's eyes. It was sparkling and smooth. He dropped it into my hand, and I studied it for a moment.

"Pretty," I said. "But mine's still the best." I grab the cold metal chain of my necklace and pull it out of my blouse. It drops down to almost my waist, where I pick it up to admire it.

There is only one jewel on the twisted silver chain, but an impossibly beautiful one. It was a deep, brownish-orange and the size of a robin's egg, crafted into a perfect teardrop shape that hung glistening from the chain.

Rome had given it to me as a gift on my fourteenth birthday. The gem wasn't really one at all, but amber. Not the most appealing, since it wasn't of extreme value or an extravagant color.

I loved it, though. You could tell that Rome spent days, maybe even weeks, working on making it absolutely perfect. It was my favorite possession.

He grins at my remark, the starts to stride toward the main street. I try my best to keep up with his long strides.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Hiram's. My treat."

Hiram's was a grubby pub on the side of the street that served kids. It was a favorite of ours; not for the food, but for people watching. You got a lot of extremely shady people in Hiram's. We couldn't always afford their prices, though.

"Where'd you get the money," I ask.

He leans forward and grins, flashing the again stone. "Charmed a Capitol girl out of it. I only gave her a couple coins for it; the real value is much, much more."

With a scowl, I pushed him down into the dust.

"What was that for?" he yells playfully, feigning ignorance. He tries to get up and I push him down again.

"You told me you would stop manipulating visitors!" I say, scowling harder, but not enough to hide my blossoming smile.

"I said maybe," he clarifies. "And I got a special discount for being the "handsomest poor person she'd ever seen", to put it in her own words."

It is true that Rome was handsome, with his straight nose; tan skin; and dark, cropped hair, but he looked like many boys from The Seam. His eyes were the uniform stormy grey, though they had nearly translucent green flecks in them.

I look nothing like him. With my reddish-blond hair, freckled nose, and hazel eyes, I look nothing like a Seam girl. The looks come from my father, who ued to live in District 10.

I rolled my eyes at The Capitol girl's ignorance. Then again, most of them were that way. I couldn't really blame Rome; he had so many siblings at home, he needed the money much more than the silly, spoiled girl he took it from.

"Come on Philly," he pleads. "Lunch is all on me."

I leave him behind, still brushing off dirt and dust, as I walk toward the pub. "I'm getting a milkshake, then," I say, not turning back.

He catches up with me at the doorway, pushing it open for me. We both duck our heads and peer inside.

Sorry the ending is so abrupt, but I didn't want it to be that long. Please review. The little button is right there...