All he’d know were these fields and orchards. All throughout district 11. His father wasn’t too well off, but he knew that he needed to be grateful to even be here. Some of the people he knew didn’t even make it past 13. Although, he may have been living now his odds of making it to twenty were even slimmer.

The Reaping.

Like the grim reaper standing at the podium. Either hunger got you or the games did. The Capitol ate up whatever they saw on these little screens. Spruce knew somebody who had won. But everybody was taken from them. Spruce knew he didn’t want this. Of course— who would want to be in a life or death situation?

Days before the reaping, he knew other districts existed. But he never once left where he came from. Carrying bags of fruit, learning the ground and the sky around him, he knew that the only thing grounding him was his own home. He has 2 younger brothers. Which, constantly always annoyed him but he learned to appreciate it when his mother started to grow weary of the fact that her eldest son was set to be at the Reaping.

Days. Just days before his fates is decided. Days where he has to stay awake wondering what can he do to make the future wait? To push the deadlines as far as he can? But he had nothing. Nothing at all. He could not do a single thing. But all he could do was make the most of little time he has in managing his father’s fruit stall and his orchards.