Hey guys, so you might member me from my old story A Different Time. Well, if you read my last post you should know that I am doing some serious revisions to the story, and I was debating even keeping it at all. I have two reasons for deleting the story; First, I lost my flash drive, plot plans and revisions for A Different Time due to a tornado that ripped through central Illinois on November 17, 2013, and taking part of my house with it. I haven't touched the story in a couple months, and I can't really remember what I was planning to do, so I couldn't exactly go forward with that. And second, I have had an idea for a Gadge story for a long time, and I kinda wanted to focus on that instead. But, over the past few days, I've figured out a way to sort of link the two together. So while the second story will be under revision, this one will be written from scratch! Okay, so I think that's enough talking for now.

Enjoy! And please review! :D

Chapter One: Into the Woods.

It was a struggle every morning to pry my eyes open and wake up. Each day I tried to stay in the world of dreams longer than my body and mind wanted to. Even if those dreams were nightmares, I was convinced those nightmares would be a much better place to live than in Panem. Panem was where I lived, but I would never dare to call it home. Home is a place where you feel safe, and governmental officials actually care about the people they rule over. Home is not a place where children are reaped to fight to the death against other children. Home is not a place where people are starving and no one gives a damn about it, or if they do they don't have the guts to do anything about it. No, this place was definitely not home. I haven't felt at home since I was five years old, before we were forced to leave town and live in the Seam.

A few early morning rays of sun shone through the broken wood of the walls behind my bed. Through slightly open eyes, I could see floating dust particles trapped in the air the light touched. A constant dripping in the corner of the room told me that it had rained last night. I forced my heavy limbs out of my stiff bed, and was meet with the cold chill of the morning, producing goose bumps on my pale skin. After quickly stretching, I got dressed in a pair of dark, worn out jeans, a light blue shirt and a brown cotton jacket. I slipped on my pair of warn, and extremely comfortable, brown boots and walked across the room to place a small bowl under the leak in my roof.

It had been a surprise this morning to not be awoken by my mother's terrible screaming. As the realization dawned on me, I practically ran out of my room to check and make sure if she was alright. As I passed the curtain that acted as a door between my room and living room, I saw my mother still peacefully asleep on the couch. Her short blond hair was disheveled, meaning it had probably been a rough night for her. Ever since she lost her twin sister Maysilee, who was brutally killed in the fiftieth Hunger Games twenty-four years ago, she has barely gotten a full nights rest on her own. I walked over to her sleeping form and gently kissed her forehead, being extremely careful not to wake her. As I turned to the kitchen I saw my father giving me a soft smile as he watched the small scene. He was leaning against our stove sipping weak tea that he must have just finished heating, as small amounts of steam rose up and out of the cracked cup. I went over to him and gave him a small hug.

"Good morning, Daddy."

"Morning, Madge. Are you going to be heading out soon?"

"I was planning on it, but do I need to stay and give Mom her morphling dose?" I questioned. Every morning we had to administer a substantial amount of morphling to my mother. This helped her sleep soundly, but that wasn't the main purpose of the morphling. Eleven years ago my mom became extremely ill, and was only predicted to live for a few months max. Her illness contributed to her nightmares, as well as memory loss, and excruciating pain in her brain and heart, which the morphling helped to subdue. My father shook his head to my question.

"She woke up about an hour or so ago. She didn't scream, but I could tell she was about to. I gave her the medicine a bit earlier than usual." I nodded along with the explanation; it explained why she didn't wake me up. "I was thinking you might like to walk with me on my way to the mines?"

"Sure," I beamed back at him. "Just give me a couple minutes to gather what I need."

My father was John Undersee, a tall and middle aged man with rapidly graying hair that refused to stay on his head, and the head manager of the mines. He grew up in district one several years ago and was offered a job as the Mayor of District Twelve. Doubting his abilities to successfully run an entire district by himself he declined, but was then offered the opportunity to help manage the mines. That offer was one he had accepted. He moved out to District Twelve about twenty years ago, where he meet my mother in town. My mother always says that it wasn't love at first sight for her like it was for dad, but she finally accepted his request to go on a date, and she gradually fell for him. Just thinking about the story of them falling in love makes me smile, I love the fact that they fought for their love and took the time to know if things would work before they rushed into anything serious. It warms my heart that their story is of true love, something worth fighting and waiting for. It's the same kind of love I hope to have someday. After three years of courting my mother, the two of them finally got married, and a year later I was born.

After grabbing a little bit of fruit and a partial loaf of stale bread, I went back to my room to grab my old tan messenger bag, and pulled my wavy blonde hair up into a high ponytail. I took a moment to stand in my room, trying not to remember how we used to live in town. Because my father was a manager of the mines and not an ordinary worker his salary was much more substantial than others. We were able to live comfortably in town; we actually lived better than most of the shopkeeper families. But then my mother got sick. At first the medications weren't too expensive, but then her illness began to rapidly progress. In order to pay for the proper medication, we were forced to move to the Seam. For the past eleven years, the majority of my father's paycheck contributes to the payment of eight morphling vaccinations per week. The expense has left us with a very small amount of money to use for living.

I tried to shake the memories of my family's past out of my head as I walked to the door where my father was waiting.

"Ready to go, Madge?" I nodded in response as he opened the door and stepped out of our small house. I paused as I was going through the door frame. I looked back over my shoulder, and gave my mother a small good-bye, followed by an "I love you" before stepping out of the house fully and shutting the door.

I had to jog a few steps to catch up with my dad, who smiled at me and gave me a hug from the side. As we walked I asked him about how the mines were going, I could tell that something was getting stressful for him, and I figured it had to either be my mother or the mines. I asked about the mines because neither one of us like to be reminded on my mother's decaying condition. I watched as his smile faded soon after I asked the question.

"It's becoming rather stressful. They miners deserve much more pay than what they receive, but no one will give me any money to raise their salaries. I have to be under evaluation by one of the President's advisors for a few more months in order to prove that I deserve my position. And one of the worst parts is that they expect me to create a purposeful, but look-like-another-measly-accident, mine explosion. I can't do that knowing how it affects the people involved, but I can't lose my weekly earnings either. I've been trying to find a way to make it happen without anyone getting hurt, and soon, or else I think this advisor might do it for me." His voice gradually became lower and lower until I could barely hear it, but miners were beginning to create a group around us as we were headed to their work. I didn't get the chance to respond to my dad since a few miners joined up with us and distracted him from our conversation with their own questions about work. I wasn't insulted by the slight intrusion as they all had valid questions, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel hurt by my father so easily ignoring me.

It only took a few more minutes to get the boulder close to the mine entrance. This marked the spot where I had to go a separate way to get into the woods. I gave a quick glance to my dad, who caught my gesture and nodded. I smiled, and began to run to the direction of the dried up ravine. I stayed cautious as I crossed over the small path on the top of the reservoir. Once in the shelter of the trees I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me or saw me. I have yet to see a pair of wandering eyes; this thought alone brought a smile to my face. I took about twenty steps to get to the fence, threw my bag over, checked behind me one more time, and then began climbing the fence. Katniss prefers using a hole under the fence, but I love the small adrenaline rush of jumping off the top of the fence.

I landed crouched on the ground in a form that took me several months to perfect. Grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder again, I began taking a beeline path for the tree in which I hid my roll of knifes. As I dug the fabric roll out of a hollowed out tree, I noticed that Katniss' bow was already gone, meaning I was later than I thought I was. I tied the piece of fabric around my lower forearm, and unsheathed one of the small knifes just in case. These knives once belonged to my parents when they lived in town, but in the Seam they seemed practically useless, so they tried to get rid of them. I remember digging around the small gully behind our house for them a few years ago. When I first began going into the woods with Katniss I could only gather fruits and nuts because I had never wielded a weapon before. It took me about a year to fully master throwing knifes with precision and accuracy. I remember the frustration and anger that first came with trying them, but I never gave up at it; and by doing so, my first bull's-eye sent an excited jolt of adrenaline through my body, making all the hard work worth it.

Technically being out in the woods like this is rather illegal, especially if you are a hunter like Katniss or I. The Mayor of District Twelve is a corrupt drunk; it's a down right miracle he hasn't been kicked out of office yet. It surprised me he hasn't reported us to the Capitol yet, but then again we do have our agreement. We work a little for him, grab him certain groceries, like liquor from Ripper at the Hob, and do a few other errands for him, and in exchange he lets us do whatever we want. The rest of the district just turns a blind eye to our law breaking. After all, it's the only way we can keep our families fed, and we aren't the only ones who benefit. Katniss sells turkey to the head peacekeeper and squirrels to the baker. I sell berries and birds to the launders of the town and rabbits to the jewelers. The rest we trade at the Hob, an old coal storage building that has long since been abandoned, or to a few others in town.

I walked silently through the woods, trying not to disturb any animals or make them run away. It took me a few minutes until I found my usual hunting spot. I crouched low to the ground and waited, listening for even the smallest movement. I heard a few bushes around me begin to move, but the wind wasn't strong enough to do that today. A smirk grew on my face, as I turned and took aim, throwing three knifes; two of them hit a couple of rabbits square in the chest, and one piercing through a bird's heart. I had a forth in my hand, ready to release when I turned and was met with an arrow aimed at my head. Both of us paused, and the silence quickly filled with laughter from both of us.

"Are you trying to poke my eye out like you do with all those squirrels, Kat?" I joked, as I put the knife in my hand back in its fabric sheath. Our friendship is one that many people wouldn't expect. From outer appearances we look exactly opposite from one another, but personality wise, we were actually very similar.

"Are you trying to pierce through my heart?" The brunette retorted, lowering her bow. I got up to retrieve my kills from the ground. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I got a bit held up at home." I shrugged. Katniss has known about my mother's state for about seven years. The two of us became rather good friends when we were nine. We were in the same class and they two of us would pair up for everything. When her dad died in a mining accident I would try to save half my food for her, but it wasn't enough. It took a couple weeks for her to start hunting, and then she decided to start taking me along with her. I think the hunting only made our friendship even stronger. "So, anyway, how's Prim doing?" I decided to ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"She's okay, I guess. She keeps waking up in the middle of the night due to nightmares of the reaping."

"Oh yeah," So much for that lightening the mood, "I forgot she's old enough to be reaped, but think about it this way, she has one slip there's absolutely no chance she could get picked out of thousands of names." I tried reassuring her.

"I keep telling her that, but she's one hundred percent convinced it'll be her. It's only one out of thousands." Her voice trailed off. I felt bad for her; unlike me Katniss has a younger sibling to look after, whereas I only have my parents. I'm sure that without me, they would be able to live off the remainder of my dad's paycheck. But at Katniss' house, she was the main provider. If Prim is reaped I know she would volunteer, and then what would happen to the rest of the Everdeens? She doesn't even have to ask that question, because both of us know the answer. If she got reaped or went into the Games for Prim I would help provide for her mother and sister, and I know she would do the same for me. "How many do you have now"?

I froze for a few seconds. When was the last time I counted how many slips in that bowl have my name on them. "I think twelve." That sounds about right at least. "And you?"

It takes her no longer that a second to respond. "At least fifteen by now." At that the two of us dropped the conversation, not wanting to dwell on something so somber.

The rest of our hunting trip is spent distracting us from the upcoming reaping. We chat and gather berries, we take turns taking down animals, and we make jokes about Effie's hair, and the ridiculousness of the Capitol and their fascination with colors. At the end of the day we sort the animals and split up to sell to our different clients in town, and giving a time to meet each other back at the Hob when we finish. When I get back into the district one thought haunts my mind, one that makes my stomach knot and twist. The reaping for the seventy-forth Hunger Games is tomorrow.

And ta-da first chapter done! I hope you enjoyed reading this. :D Please review, favorite, and/or follow. I'll try to update ASAP, but I'm not sure when the next chapter will be done, I'll try to make it within the next one to two weeks. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and if you have any suggestions just let me know! Thanks for reading; hopefully I'll have something new for you to read soon!