The Equestria Gamesby MitslitsChaptersThe ReapingAnd the Other is ChosenSo, Let's RecapExpositionThe ReapingCelestia's sun shone down on the two ponies that sat in the field below it. Bees buzzed around them, feeding off the sweet nectar of the heather and other various flowers. A trickle of sweat dripped down the nape of the colt's neck and he shook it off apathetically. The mare glanced over at him. Her mane stuck up from the back of her neck and was bright red and yellow. Her tail matched the same unbrushed state of her mane. Her cutie mark was a small golden circle with a golden bird in the middle. She opened her wings and whipped them back and forth almost lazily, fanning off her companion. "Thanks, Fire Mare, but there's no point", the colt replied, his long black mane being picked up the slight breeze. "I'll just get sweaty again as soon as you stop. And tomorrow I'll get sweaty, and the next day, and the next day." His own cutie mark was a tree being bent back by the wind, suiting his name: Gale Force. Fire Mare rolled her eyes, but she stopped her wings. "Why do you have to be so down all the time?" she asked, with a slight chuckle. Shrugging, the colt closed his eyes, dipping his head so his mane tumbled down over his face. "Doing anything is pointless." He stamped an ant into the ground with his hoof without even looking at it. "Gale, come on", Fire Mare said, nudging him gently. "I know it's Reaping Day, but that doesn't mean you get to be a big grump." Even as she spoke the ground beneath them rumbled. The field came alive with small woodland creatures and insects. The creatures rushed to the safety of the woods that were directly to the right of the ponies. "Speak of the devil..." Gale Force heaved himself to his hooves. "And the devil appears", he muttered, finishing the quote. Moving quickly, the two scrambled into the forest, racing between the tree trunks and leaping over protruding roots. In a matter of minutes they made it to an incredibly tall fence that was supposed to be electrified, but rarely was. An old sign with rotting wood and faded spray paint announced that this was Private Property and they should keep out. Another sign, even older than the first and barely legible, stated that was the boundary between restricted territory and District 12. Snorting, Fire Mare wiggled through the sizeable gap in the wire links. She slid through it easily and waited right outside for Gale Force to join her. He did so quickly and nodded at her. "I'll see you at the Reaping", he said in a hasty farewell before turning around and galloping away. Fire Mare tracked him with her eyes, finally turning away and heading towards her own home. __________________________________________________ Eventually her tired hooves brought her to a small, ramshackle hovel. The roof listed severely to one side and there was a small pool of water dripping off one corner. The door sagged on its hinges and the one window was smudged and moldy. Fire Mare carefully pushed the door open, hoping it didn't fall off as it had done before. She had barely stepped onto the warped floor before a mangy gray cat was hissing at her. It lashed a paw in her direction, claws extended, before turning his back on her and attempting to stare out the window. "Fire Mare!" a small light pink filly shouted, cantering out of the hallway and cannoning into her sister. "Mom has given you the pretty blue dress for the Reaping", she said excitedly. "Try it on!" She allowed herself to be led into the small bedroom she shared with her little sister Primrose. She gasped when she saw the dress. How had her mother ever afforded this? It was the most beautiful thing her eyes had ever beheld. "Do you like it?" Her sister's white topped head bounced into a view, a big grin plastered on her face. Without waiting for an answer she danced out of the room. "Try it on!" She shut the door, smile still on her face. Fire Mare turned back to the dress, examining it closely. The front of it was a white crest that swooped up over the rest of the dress, similar to a necklace. The crest was studded with dark purple jewels and had exquisite patterns near the front, also dark purple. A lighter purple saddle protruded from the crest, ending in a mass of cloud-like swirls. From the swirls came the fabric. The first layer was a plain blue, ending in a line of teal beads. Underneath the beads, a darker blue flap was found, also ending in a line of teal beads. The next layer was a thing gauze; it too ended in the line of beads. The last layer was made up of pleated fabric, the darkest blue yet. Fire mare slipped it on. The end of it trailed slightly on the ground, but other than that if fit her perfectly. She opened the door slowly, trying to make her entrance more dramatic. Primrose squealed in delight. "It's wonderful!" She went to hug her, then dropped to the ground, reluctant to touch the beautiful dress. Her sister rolled her eyes and enveloped Prim in a ginormous hug. "You're much more important than some dress", she told her. "Now go get ready. And, don't worry, okay? You'll be fine." She kissed Prim's forelock then sent her to get changed. A moment or two later Primrose was outfitted in her own red, sparkly, tri-layered dress. The saddle was small and dark red and embroidered with hearts. The border of the dress was lined with soft green satin and she looked stunning. Fire Mare peeked in on their mother. She was staring at an old blue jumpsuit, cut through with yellow lightning bolts. A lightning bolt with wings was embroidered on the flank and the material was wet with tears. "Mom? We're going to the Reaping." Spitfire looked up, staring at her daughter with empty eyes. "Yes, dear. Of course." A little scared at her mother's apathy she retreated, knowing she had to hide her nervousness from Prim. "Come on, Prim. It's time to go." Her sister shrank away from the open door, fear in her eyes. "I don't want to go", she whispered. "We have to." Fire Mare knelt to Primrose's level, looking her right in the eyes. "Listen to me, Prim. There's nothing to be afraid of. Okay? Your name is only in there once; I'm sure you won't be chosen." Primrose took a deep breath. "Okay, Fire Mare. I'm ready." The two walked out of the house, and Fire Mare glanced back one last time. Shaking herself, she returned her gaze to the front. They walked on, heading to the Reaping. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– The two sisters joined the herd of ponies that had already gathered for the Reaping. Fire Mare craned her neck, looking around for Gale. "Looking for Gale?" Prim asked, trying to lighten the situation. Though her words were lighthearted her voice was tense and her eyes still filled with terror. Fire Mare jumped guiltily. "No", she lied. "Gale? Pssh. What are you talking about?" Prim's voice got very soft and low. "What am I talking about, Fire Mare? What am I talking about?" Her eyes began to spread to opposite sides of their sockets and Fire Mare was about to tell her to cut it out when they reached the place where they would be sorted by age. "They're just going to take a bit of blood, okay, Prim?" Fire Mare said. "Just a little prick and it's over." Her sister seemed to come back to life. "NO! Don't leave me!" she shrieked. "NO! NO!" Two burly security ponies began to head their way. Making promises that everything would be okay, Fire Mare disentangled herself from Prim's hooves, joining her own age group, keeping her eyes trained on her sister. When it was her turn for the hoof prick, she shuddered at the size of the massive needle. She hated lying to her sister, but what was she supposed to say to calm her down? "Oh, don't worry, Prim, there's just the biggest freakin' needle you've ever seen waiting to take about a quart of your blood." Brilliant. Fire Mare winced, but she endured it quietly. Not so with Primrose. Her shrieks echoed around the Reaping area, and several security guards had to physically restrain her. Eventually, the ordeal was over and her sister was allowed to move on. Fire Mare spotted Gale Force, his eyes fixed firmly on the stage ahead of them. Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed to turn her own eyes to the stage just as the Reaping began. A big, burly, red stallion by the name of Big Macintosh stumbled onto the stage, pitching headfirst into his chair. His eyes were blurred and bloodshot with alcohol. The next pony was much more fashionable with a spotless white coat and dazzlingly blue diamond cutie mark. Her deep purple mane was curly and seemed very soft and bouncy. She approached the microphone. "Welcome to the 74th annual Equestria Games. I am Rarity. For those of you who do not know the Histories, we have a short film that we will now show." Rarity stepped back, allowing for a better view of the massive screen behind her. The Uprising started with one pony. A Royal in fact. She opposed our dear Celestia's reign, saying that the treatment their subjects received was unfair. She grew jealous and wanted all the power for herself. The princess grew into a horrid, twisted monster, heart as black as the dark side of the moon. She rallied all of ponykind and led the rebellion. Our great Celestia defeated her at great personal sacrifice and was merciful enough not to punish our race unfairly. Instead of slaying us all she decreed that one colt and one mare were to be chosen from each District each year to compete in the Equestria Games. We thank her for her mercy and generosity. Rarity stomped her hooves on the stage in applause, but the rest of the ponies remained silent, staring at her blankly. "Well, wasn't that informative?" she asked rhetorically, reclaiming her place at the microphone. "And now it's time for the drawing. May the odds be ever in your favor." She trotted over to a large glass bowl filled with tiny scraps of paper containing the names of those ponies crowded into the Reaping area. "Ladies first", she said, trying to joke as she approached the bowl. She fired up her horn, picking up one scrap of paper with her magic. Rarity took an infuriatingly long time to make her way back to the microphone. She unfolded the scrap and gazed out over the crowd. "Primrose Everfree." And the Other is ChosenI grow still. My insides turn to slush and are about as useful as a pancake in a knitting factory. No. No, this couldn't be true. No way. One name. One name among thousands. She read it wrong. I know it. But she didn't. Because Rarity is still standing there, expectant look on her face as she scans the crowd. Waiting for my sister to push her way forwards and say "here I am. I'm the tribute from District 12." Only it doesn't happen quite like that. Because I won't let it. Primrose begins to head towards the stage, struggling to hold back tears. The other fillies her age step back, glancing at her with pity and relief mixing in their eyes. They feel sorry for her and glad they themselves were not chosen. One little part of her mane is flipped up at the back and I had teased her about it for years calling her my 'little duck'. Seeing that slight imperfection jolts me out of my shock and I leap forwards. "No, Prim!" I scream, ducking under a Peacekeeper's outstretched hoof. I will not let them take her from me; I'm stronger than she is, more used to finding food than she is. Peacekeepers close in on me and I'm beginning to lose sight of my dear little sister who is nearly at the stage. I'm growing desperate, panicking now, my movements becoming more frantic and rushed. "I volunteer!" The words rip their way out of my throat before I can think, stunning me and everypony else with their raw emotion. "I volunteer", I repeat, more sanely, stepping out of the circle of Peacekeepers. Prim spins around as Gale Force slowly trots up to herd her away. Her frantic eyes meet mine and her jaw drops open with terror. In fact, she looks more terrified than when her own name was called. "NO! NO!" she shrieks as Gale blocks her way forward. I run to her, smoothing down her mane quickly. "Prim, listen to me", I spit out, rushing as the Peacekeepers beckon me towards the stage. "Hush. You have to be strong right now, okay? Go with Gale, alright?" I can't say anymore. I have to go. I turn and slowly ascend the steps, trying not to think about the hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, millions if you counted those in the Capitol watching safely from their posh living rooms. I just know I'll trip or sneeze or something. Or, even worse, cry. But I don't. I make it over to Rarity and she shifts to the side to give me access to the microphone. "Isn't this lovely?" she asks again. She seems very fond of rhetorical questions. "District 12's very first volunteer! What's your name, dear?" It takes a second for me to realize that this is a question that requires an answer and I lean forward slightly, bringing my lips closer to the microphone. "Fire Mare Everfree." My voice rasps horribly. Rarity looks at me with fake warmth. "Well, I would guess that that charming young filly was your sister, am I right?" I look at the pony in disbelief. Is she even real? Surely a pony this insensitive to everything going on around her couldn't be, right? I almost stretch my hoof out and poke her, just to make sure, but I decide against it. Instead I just nod, numbness beginning to creep over me. I just volunteered myself for a game in which there is only one winner. And to win, I would have to kill. But if I killed everypony else I would be a victor, showered with wealth and plenty. I would wake up each morning to Spitfire back to her old self and Prim laughing at the mound of food on the table. The mound of food that I could give them... Then and there I resolved to win. Dying trying was a given. Seeming satisfied with my mute affirmation, Rarity moves on to the boys. She digs around in the bowl and I agonize over this fact. Get it over with and let it not be Gale, I plead in my mind. She pulls out a slip and reclaims her spot in front of the microphone, forcing me to stumble backwards. The white unicorn savors the stillness as she unfolds the paper and once again looks out over the crowd. "Not Gale", I whisper, barely realizing I'm saying it. "Not him." If it came down to a fight between me and him I didn't know what I'd do. "Anyone but him. Nopony could be worse than him." Rarity glances over at me before returning her gaze to the crowd. "Bread Boy." ___________________________________________________ The neverending rain drips down off the tree's leaves onto my mane, which is already plastered to my forehead. My eyes are narrowed against the stinging drops and my stomach growls, reminding me of the long absence of food. Prim and mom are starving. As am I. Any food I get is going to them and I know I cannot last much longer. My eyes dart towards the trash cans outside the bakery. Stealing is a crime, but we are so hungry... I've just steeled myself to sneak some scraps of stale bread from the nearly overflowing bins when the door snaps open. I suck my breath in through my teeth as the smell tickles my nostrils. It's heaven on earth, that scent. Water floods my mouth as the odor conjures images of steaming golden loaves, buns laced thinly with flour, pastries so full of jelly it dribbles down the sides, leaving flecks of red on the counter. My stomach growls again and I shrink back into the foliage. A colt emerges, seeming to be about my age of fourteen. He is the same golden brown as the bread in my imagination with a mane the color of coffee with cream. His eyes, filled with pain, are a delicious toffee color. The pain comes from a red welt newly formed on his cheek and the silence of the gloomy day is broken by angry screaming from inside the baker. I can't see who's yelling, but the colt is glancing fervently in my direction. Two loaves of bread come flying out of the house, blackened patches covering one end of each loaf. The bread thuds down at his hooves and I catch a few words. "Feed the pigs!" The colt turns away from the door and picks up one loaf in his jaws, careful to grasp it by the burnt end. This strikes me as odd. The loaves are ruined. Why be careful with them? I soon get my answer. With one glance back at the house, he casually sends the first loaf sailing in my direction. It arcs through the raindrops before splashing down into a muddy puddle nearby. Just as quickly the second loaf drops down beside its partner. The colt vanishes back inside and I hear one final insult before the door slams shut. "Have fun in the rain, Bread Boy? Don't do it again, idiot!" I dash out to the loaves and just manage to jam both into my mouth. I spin and flee towards the relative safety of our little shack. Prim's face when she sees the meal is worth all of the risk I took in getting it. __________________________________________________________ Okay, so I was wrong. There was one pony just as bad as Gale. And his name had just been called. Thanks a lot, odds. Thanks a lot. So, Let's RecapBread Boy and I are guided into a separate rooms to make our last goodbyes. My room is small and wooden. Seriously, it's all wood. I sit down on the wooden bench and wait for the wooden door to open. It doesn't. Not one single pony comes through that door. They've all left me here to die on my own. No, I'm totally kidding. My mom and Prim come in first. Prim looks awful, her eyes wide with fear and rimmed in red. Mom just looks like her usual uncaring self. "Fire Mare! Fire Mare, you have to tell them this was all a mistake!" Primrose shouts, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clings to me. I shake my head, holding her close. "No way, Prim. They'll take you instead. I won't let that happen", I tell her, pulling back and looking into her eyes. She nods, still sobbing, and releases me. I turn to Spitfire who is staring at the wooden floor, tracing circles with her hoof. "Mom." She jerks her head up, half-closed eyes staring at me without really seeing me. "Mom, you can't be like this anymore, alright? You have to start", I struggle to find a word, "caring." She just blinks and I sigh. "You have to take care of Prim, okay?" I wait for a moment, but she is silent. I finally lose it. "MOM! Dad is dead, okay? He's dead and gone and never coming back and you have to snap out of it!" Spitfire finally reacts. Her head jerks back as if I've slapped her and she glares at me. "I hope Bread Boy wins", she says before grabbing Prim by the tail and dragging her out of the room. "NO! NO!" she screams, hooves trying to get purchase. The Peacekeepers open the door and help my mom get her out. I stumble backwards in shock, tripping over my own hooves and slamming my butt onto the cruel wood planks below. "Owwie", I mutter and immediately regret the childish word. Gale Force pokes his head in, looking eerily like my mother with his apathetic expression. He sees me sitting in the middle of the floor, tears welling in my eyes, sighs and trots over to me. He plunks himself down beside me, letting me lean into him. "You okay?" "Yes, Gale", I reply sarcastically. "I'm about to fight to the death and my mother just told me she wants somebody else to win", I say, fighting back tears again. Gale looks at me, blinks, and gives me a small smile. "Owwie", he says, gently tapping my heart with one of his hooves. Instantly I feel better. I smile and stand up again, suddenly confident in my abilities. I will win. For Prim. For Gale. Maybe even a little bit for Spitfire. For mom. Gale's time with me is over far too soon. He gives me one last wink before striding out of the room and I can't help but think that this could be the last I ever see of him. But I can't afford to cry now. The cameras might pick it up. ___________________________________________________ Bread Boy and I are met by Rarity outside of our rooms. Bread Boy's eyes are as clear as mine, and I wonder if he even had anypony to say goodbye to. The little I'd heard his mom say to him all those years ago hadn't exactly been tender-hearted and loving. Rarity escorts us onto a train, babbling on about how fast we're going and where we're going, even though neither of us are listening. I am too annoyed with her to care, and Bread Boy is just looking out of the windows. It's not much of a view, really, just a green blur of trees. I wander over to a white sofa and plop down, throwing my hooves up onto a small coffee table, inwardly chuckling at Rarity's disgusted glare. "Manners", she mumbles, sitting down at a long table. Soon the table is covered with food, brought in by white ponies with black manes and red dresses trimmed in gold. They leave as soon as their jobs are done and the three of us are left alone again. Both Bread Boy and I sit down as far away from each other and Rarity as we can get and begin to stuff our faces with all the glorious food. There's bread, cake, fruit, vegetables, hay fries, daisy sandwhiches, and so much more. I can barely finish one thing before setting my sights on something else I want to try, so I just try everything. Bread Boy shovels food up with his hooves, scooping it into his mouth and trying to hide his grin every time Rarity winces. Which she does a lot of, actually. By the time we are finally too full to squeeze even one last morsel into our mouths I'm pretty sure she has developed a permanent twitch. "So", I begin, mouth still full, "where's Big Macintosh? He's supposed to help us, right?" Rarity stands, pushing back from the table and sitting down in a chair away from us. "He'll be here shortly, I'm sure. Until then, darlings, we can watch the reapings from the other districts", she says, turning on a large projection screen that I hadn't noticed before. Both Bread Boy and I stay seated at the table while the reapings are replayed for everypony to see. Only a couple of the tributes actually stick in my mind. One is a bright ginger mare with a dark brown mane. She looks wily and her face reminds me of a fox. Another is a large black colt with blazing red spiked mane and tail. His snout is pointed and his face seems to be permanently set in a scowl. Another brown colt with dark red mane and tail steps forwards as well. His eyes rotate oddly in their sockets and his mother, a gray pony with light yellow mane and tail, bubbly cutie mark, and ditzy eyes, sits crying in the audience. The worst is a small unicorn filly, twelve years old. She is dark brown with a crimson mane and tail and she reminds me so much of Prim I want to cry, but I don't. Then it's me, wild-eyed and crazy as I volunteer to take my sister's place. Bread Boy's name is called, we're led off, and the screen goes dark. We sit in silence for a moment before I repeat my earlier question. "So....Big Macintosh?" Rarity sighed. "Ah, yes, the drunkard. Your mentor." "He does get drunk a lot, doesn't he?" Bread Boy remarks with a small chuckle. I nod. "Yes, every year." "Every day." "Every hour." "Every second." We start laughing before Rarity joins in, shrill and high-pitched. "Yes, and just think. He decides if you live or die! Isn't that just the funniest thing you've ever heard? You walk a thin line, and he can push you over one way or another, deciding whether you revel in riches and fame or burn in the flames of hell! Ha, ha, ha!" At that moment, Big Mac stumbles into the room, a bottle of Applejack Daniels clutched in one hoof. He drops it and pitches forwards, landing in a big puddle of the alcohol. Rarity smirks at us, hopping over his fallen body. "Had good luck with those odds lately?" Then she walked away. ExpositionBread Boy and I glance at each other wearily, because Rarity has a point. The odds have not been kind of late and Big Macintosh is pretty much our lifeline. Without saying a word, we help Big Mac to his hooves. "Trippy", he says before passing out and leaning his entire weight on me. "Going down", I say, before toppling under the crushing stallion. I push vainly at him, trying to heave him off me, but some of his vomit starts to trickle down, dripping onto me. "Oh, God, it got in my mouth!" I shout, then instantly spit it out. Bread Boy, who has leaned down to help me, takes it in the face and stumbles backwards. "Grossgrossgross!" he squeals. He wipes it off quickly, scraping his hoof on the carpet vigorously. After a much longer struggle and more vomit-y grossness, we manage to get Big Mac to a bathroom where we rinse him with running water and dry him off. Well, at least, Bread Boy does. I manage to beg off on the grounds that I am a mare, and Big Mac is not. I head off to my own room as Bread Boy scrubs at Big Mac's chest, trying to wash him off. I thank my not-so-lucky stars that he's kind enough to do this by himself, and stop short. He's kind. Very kind. I wonder if his cutie mark has something to do with kindness, so I turn and look. Nope. It's just a steaming loaf of bread. He catches me staring at his flank and winks at me. My face flushes red, giving him the totally wrong impression that I was checking him out. "No. No, I wasn-...oh, forget it!" I stamp my hoof and stomp out of the room, cursing my pale yellow coat. If I looked like Big Macintosh, that wouldn't have been a problem. Then I think of Big Mac swimming in his own puke with Bread Boy's hooves all over him and I'm glad I'm me again. The train stops a few minutes later and I look outside the window. My eyes are instantly drawn to a small patch of dandelions and a flood of images pierce my mind. I toss a dandelion into a bucket already full of them. Prim smiles at me, then picks up the bucket, nearly banging it against her knees. "Slow down there, little duck", I say, taking it from her. "What else?" she asks, leaping ahead. I head into the woods on my own for the first time, looking through the woods for our next meal. I am lucky and I manage to find green beans and wild strawberries, which I bring home for a salad. Soarin and I are foraging together and he points out a tall plant with three white blossoms. "Hey, look, Fire Mare. This plant is called katniss. It is edible", he says, taking a big bite out of one of the leaves. My mother bustled around the house, taking care of Prim and even singing. My sister danced around her, but I was mostly uncomfortable. I come back to myself as we pass another district, but I am not sure which one. What do they think of me, District 12's very first volunteer? They probably just think I'm stupid. I notice the sky is lighter now. Rarity hops past my room. She says, "Get up or I'll be forced to send Big Mac in to kiss you awake!" I think she suffers permanent brain damage because of how fast I cannon into her, screaming about how awake I am. Bread Boy and Big Mac meet as at the table. Big Mac does nothing but drink whiskey as Bread Boy and I tear into the food. Rarity picks at her food, not eating much. I hope she starves. About halfway through the meal, I ask Big Mac if he has any advice. "Stay alive", he suggests through a mouthful of waffles. Bread Boy chokes on his roll, glaring at Big Mac. He reaches out and knocks his glass of alcohol over. He gets kicked in the jaw for that. Spotting a knife nearby, I grab it in my jaws and slam it into the table near Big Mac. Rarity's head whips around, eyes fixed on me. "That is mahogany", she shouts. "Fighters, are ya?" Big Mac asks, eying us with what I think is pride. "Real advice. Let me stay drunk. Deal with the stylists." Then he falls silent and turns back to his whiskey. I think both Bread Boy and I realize that is all we're going to get.
The ReapingCelestia's sun shone down on the two ponies that sat in the field below it. Bees buzzed around them, feeding off the sweet nectar of the heather and other various flowers. A trickle of sweat dripped down the nape of the colt's neck and he shook it off apathetically. The mare glanced over at him. Her mane stuck up from the back of her neck and was bright red and yellow. Her tail matched the same unbrushed state of her mane. Her cutie mark was a small golden circle with a golden bird in the middle. She opened her wings and whipped them back and forth almost lazily, fanning off her companion. "Thanks, Fire Mare, but there's no point", the colt replied, his long black mane being picked up the slight breeze. "I'll just get sweaty again as soon as you stop. And tomorrow I'll get sweaty, and the next day, and the next day." His own cutie mark was a tree being bent back by the wind, suiting his name: Gale Force. Fire Mare rolled her eyes, but she stopped her wings. "Why do you have to be so down all the time?" she asked, with a slight chuckle. Shrugging, the colt closed his eyes, dipping his head so his mane tumbled down over his face. "Doing anything is pointless." He stamped an ant into the ground with his hoof without even looking at it. "Gale, come on", Fire Mare said, nudging him gently. "I know it's Reaping Day, but that doesn't mean you get to be a big grump." Even as she spoke the ground beneath them rumbled. The field came alive with small woodland creatures and insects. The creatures rushed to the safety of the woods that were directly to the right of the ponies. "Speak of the devil..." Gale Force heaved himself to his hooves. "And the devil appears", he muttered, finishing the quote. Moving quickly, the two scrambled into the forest, racing between the tree trunks and leaping over protruding roots. In a matter of minutes they made it to an incredibly tall fence that was supposed to be electrified, but rarely was. An old sign with rotting wood and faded spray paint announced that this was Private Property and they should keep out. Another sign, even older than the first and barely legible, stated that was the boundary between restricted territory and District 12. Snorting, Fire Mare wiggled through the sizeable gap in the wire links. She slid through it easily and waited right outside for Gale Force to join her. He did so quickly and nodded at her. "I'll see you at the Reaping", he said in a hasty farewell before turning around and galloping away. Fire Mare tracked him with her eyes, finally turning away and heading towards her own home. __________________________________________________ Eventually her tired hooves brought her to a small, ramshackle hovel. The roof listed severely to one side and there was a small pool of water dripping off one corner. The door sagged on its hinges and the one window was smudged and moldy. Fire Mare carefully pushed the door open, hoping it didn't fall off as it had done before. She had barely stepped onto the warped floor before a mangy gray cat was hissing at her. It lashed a paw in her direction, claws extended, before turning his back on her and attempting to stare out the window. "Fire Mare!" a small light pink filly shouted, cantering out of the hallway and cannoning into her sister. "Mom has given you the pretty blue dress for the Reaping", she said excitedly. "Try it on!" She allowed herself to be led into the small bedroom she shared with her little sister Primrose. She gasped when she saw the dress. How had her mother ever afforded this? It was the most beautiful thing her eyes had ever beheld. "Do you like it?" Her sister's white topped head bounced into a view, a big grin plastered on her face. Without waiting for an answer she danced out of the room. "Try it on!" She shut the door, smile still on her face. Fire Mare turned back to the dress, examining it closely. The front of it was a white crest that swooped up over the rest of the dress, similar to a necklace. The crest was studded with dark purple jewels and had exquisite patterns near the front, also dark purple. A lighter purple saddle protruded from the crest, ending in a mass of cloud-like swirls. From the swirls came the fabric. The first layer was a plain blue, ending in a line of teal beads. Underneath the beads, a darker blue flap was found, also ending in a line of teal beads. The next layer was a thing gauze; it too ended in the line of beads. The last layer was made up of pleated fabric, the darkest blue yet. Fire mare slipped it on. The end of it trailed slightly on the ground, but other than that if fit her perfectly. She opened the door slowly, trying to make her entrance more dramatic. Primrose squealed in delight. "It's wonderful!" She went to hug her, then dropped to the ground, reluctant to touch the beautiful dress. Her sister rolled her eyes and enveloped Prim in a ginormous hug. "You're much more important than some dress", she told her. "Now go get ready. And, don't worry, okay? You'll be fine." She kissed Prim's forelock then sent her to get changed. A moment or two later Primrose was outfitted in her own red, sparkly, tri-layered dress. The saddle was small and dark red and embroidered with hearts. The border of the dress was lined with soft green satin and she looked stunning. Fire Mare peeked in on their mother. She was staring at an old blue jumpsuit, cut through with yellow lightning bolts. A lightning bolt with wings was embroidered on the flank and the material was wet with tears. "Mom? We're going to the Reaping." Spitfire looked up, staring at her daughter with empty eyes. "Yes, dear. Of course." A little scared at her mother's apathy she retreated, knowing she had to hide her nervousness from Prim. "Come on, Prim. It's time to go." Her sister shrank away from the open door, fear in her eyes. "I don't want to go", she whispered. "We have to." Fire Mare knelt to Primrose's level, looking her right in the eyes. "Listen to me, Prim. There's nothing to be afraid of. Okay? Your name is only in there once; I'm sure you won't be chosen." Primrose took a deep breath. "Okay, Fire Mare. I'm ready." The two walked out of the house, and Fire Mare glanced back one last time. Shaking herself, she returned her gaze to the front. They walked on, heading to the Reaping. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– The two sisters joined the herd of ponies that had already gathered for the Reaping. Fire Mare craned her neck, looking around for Gale. "Looking for Gale?" Prim asked, trying to lighten the situation. Though her words were lighthearted her voice was tense and her eyes still filled with terror. Fire Mare jumped guiltily. "No", she lied. "Gale? Pssh. What are you talking about?" Prim's voice got very soft and low. "What am I talking about, Fire Mare? What am I talking about?" Her eyes began to spread to opposite sides of their sockets and Fire Mare was about to tell her to cut it out when they reached the place where they would be sorted by age. "They're just going to take a bit of blood, okay, Prim?" Fire Mare said. "Just a little prick and it's over." Her sister seemed to come back to life. "NO! Don't leave me!" she shrieked. "NO! NO!" Two burly security ponies began to head their way. Making promises that everything would be okay, Fire Mare disentangled herself from Prim's hooves, joining her own age group, keeping her eyes trained on her sister. When it was her turn for the hoof prick, she shuddered at the size of the massive needle. She hated lying to her sister, but what was she supposed to say to calm her down? "Oh, don't worry, Prim, there's just the biggest freakin' needle you've ever seen waiting to take about a quart of your blood." Brilliant. Fire Mare winced, but she endured it quietly. Not so with Primrose. Her shrieks echoed around the Reaping area, and several security guards had to physically restrain her. Eventually, the ordeal was over and her sister was allowed to move on. Fire Mare spotted Gale Force, his eyes fixed firmly on the stage ahead of them. Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed to turn her own eyes to the stage just as the Reaping began. A big, burly, red stallion by the name of Big Macintosh stumbled onto the stage, pitching headfirst into his chair. His eyes were blurred and bloodshot with alcohol. The next pony was much more fashionable with a spotless white coat and dazzlingly blue diamond cutie mark. Her deep purple mane was curly and seemed very soft and bouncy. She approached the microphone. "Welcome to the 74th annual Equestria Games. I am Rarity. For those of you who do not know the Histories, we have a short film that we will now show." Rarity stepped back, allowing for a better view of the massive screen behind her. The Uprising started with one pony. A Royal in fact. She opposed our dear Celestia's reign, saying that the treatment their subjects received was unfair. She grew jealous and wanted all the power for herself. The princess grew into a horrid, twisted monster, heart as black as the dark side of the moon. She rallied all of ponykind and led the rebellion. Our great Celestia defeated her at great personal sacrifice and was merciful enough not to punish our race unfairly. Instead of slaying us all she decreed that one colt and one mare were to be chosen from each District each year to compete in the Equestria Games. We thank her for her mercy and generosity. Rarity stomped her hooves on the stage in applause, but the rest of the ponies remained silent, staring at her blankly. "Well, wasn't that informative?" she asked rhetorically, reclaiming her place at the microphone. "And now it's time for the drawing. May the odds be ever in your favor." She trotted over to a large glass bowl filled with tiny scraps of paper containing the names of those ponies crowded into the Reaping area. "Ladies first", she said, trying to joke as she approached the bowl. She fired up her horn, picking up one scrap of paper with her magic. Rarity took an infuriatingly long time to make her way back to the microphone. She unfolded the scrap and gazed out over the crowd. "Primrose Everfree."
And the Other is ChosenI grow still. My insides turn to slush and are about as useful as a pancake in a knitting factory. No. No, this couldn't be true. No way. One name. One name among thousands. She read it wrong. I know it. But she didn't. Because Rarity is still standing there, expectant look on her face as she scans the crowd. Waiting for my sister to push her way forwards and say "here I am. I'm the tribute from District 12." Only it doesn't happen quite like that. Because I won't let it. Primrose begins to head towards the stage, struggling to hold back tears. The other fillies her age step back, glancing at her with pity and relief mixing in their eyes. They feel sorry for her and glad they themselves were not chosen. One little part of her mane is flipped up at the back and I had teased her about it for years calling her my 'little duck'. Seeing that slight imperfection jolts me out of my shock and I leap forwards. "No, Prim!" I scream, ducking under a Peacekeeper's outstretched hoof. I will not let them take her from me; I'm stronger than she is, more used to finding food than she is. Peacekeepers close in on me and I'm beginning to lose sight of my dear little sister who is nearly at the stage. I'm growing desperate, panicking now, my movements becoming more frantic and rushed. "I volunteer!" The words rip their way out of my throat before I can think, stunning me and everypony else with their raw emotion. "I volunteer", I repeat, more sanely, stepping out of the circle of Peacekeepers. Prim spins around as Gale Force slowly trots up to herd her away. Her frantic eyes meet mine and her jaw drops open with terror. In fact, she looks more terrified than when her own name was called. "NO! NO!" she shrieks as Gale blocks her way forward. I run to her, smoothing down her mane quickly. "Prim, listen to me", I spit out, rushing as the Peacekeepers beckon me towards the stage. "Hush. You have to be strong right now, okay? Go with Gale, alright?" I can't say anymore. I have to go. I turn and slowly ascend the steps, trying not to think about the hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, millions if you counted those in the Capitol watching safely from their posh living rooms. I just know I'll trip or sneeze or something. Or, even worse, cry. But I don't. I make it over to Rarity and she shifts to the side to give me access to the microphone. "Isn't this lovely?" she asks again. She seems very fond of rhetorical questions. "District 12's very first volunteer! What's your name, dear?" It takes a second for me to realize that this is a question that requires an answer and I lean forward slightly, bringing my lips closer to the microphone. "Fire Mare Everfree." My voice rasps horribly. Rarity looks at me with fake warmth. "Well, I would guess that that charming young filly was your sister, am I right?" I look at the pony in disbelief. Is she even real? Surely a pony this insensitive to everything going on around her couldn't be, right? I almost stretch my hoof out and poke her, just to make sure, but I decide against it. Instead I just nod, numbness beginning to creep over me. I just volunteered myself for a game in which there is only one winner. And to win, I would have to kill. But if I killed everypony else I would be a victor, showered with wealth and plenty. I would wake up each morning to Spitfire back to her old self and Prim laughing at the mound of food on the table. The mound of food that I could give them... Then and there I resolved to win. Dying trying was a given. Seeming satisfied with my mute affirmation, Rarity moves on to the boys. She digs around in the bowl and I agonize over this fact. Get it over with and let it not be Gale, I plead in my mind. She pulls out a slip and reclaims her spot in front of the microphone, forcing me to stumble backwards. The white unicorn savors the stillness as she unfolds the paper and once again looks out over the crowd. "Not Gale", I whisper, barely realizing I'm saying it. "Not him." If it came down to a fight between me and him I didn't know what I'd do. "Anyone but him. Nopony could be worse than him." Rarity glances over at me before returning her gaze to the crowd. "Bread Boy." ___________________________________________________ The neverending rain drips down off the tree's leaves onto my mane, which is already plastered to my forehead. My eyes are narrowed against the stinging drops and my stomach growls, reminding me of the long absence of food. Prim and mom are starving. As am I. Any food I get is going to them and I know I cannot last much longer. My eyes dart towards the trash cans outside the bakery. Stealing is a crime, but we are so hungry... I've just steeled myself to sneak some scraps of stale bread from the nearly overflowing bins when the door snaps open. I suck my breath in through my teeth as the smell tickles my nostrils. It's heaven on earth, that scent. Water floods my mouth as the odor conjures images of steaming golden loaves, buns laced thinly with flour, pastries so full of jelly it dribbles down the sides, leaving flecks of red on the counter. My stomach growls again and I shrink back into the foliage. A colt emerges, seeming to be about my age of fourteen. He is the same golden brown as the bread in my imagination with a mane the color of coffee with cream. His eyes, filled with pain, are a delicious toffee color. The pain comes from a red welt newly formed on his cheek and the silence of the gloomy day is broken by angry screaming from inside the baker. I can't see who's yelling, but the colt is glancing fervently in my direction. Two loaves of bread come flying out of the house, blackened patches covering one end of each loaf. The bread thuds down at his hooves and I catch a few words. "Feed the pigs!" The colt turns away from the door and picks up one loaf in his jaws, careful to grasp it by the burnt end. This strikes me as odd. The loaves are ruined. Why be careful with them? I soon get my answer. With one glance back at the house, he casually sends the first loaf sailing in my direction. It arcs through the raindrops before splashing down into a muddy puddle nearby. Just as quickly the second loaf drops down beside its partner. The colt vanishes back inside and I hear one final insult before the door slams shut. "Have fun in the rain, Bread Boy? Don't do it again, idiot!" I dash out to the loaves and just manage to jam both into my mouth. I spin and flee towards the relative safety of our little shack. Prim's face when she sees the meal is worth all of the risk I took in getting it. __________________________________________________________ Okay, so I was wrong. There was one pony just as bad as Gale. And his name had just been called. Thanks a lot, odds. Thanks a lot.
So, Let's RecapBread Boy and I are guided into a separate rooms to make our last goodbyes. My room is small and wooden. Seriously, it's all wood. I sit down on the wooden bench and wait for the wooden door to open. It doesn't. Not one single pony comes through that door. They've all left me here to die on my own. No, I'm totally kidding. My mom and Prim come in first. Prim looks awful, her eyes wide with fear and rimmed in red. Mom just looks like her usual uncaring self. "Fire Mare! Fire Mare, you have to tell them this was all a mistake!" Primrose shouts, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clings to me. I shake my head, holding her close. "No way, Prim. They'll take you instead. I won't let that happen", I tell her, pulling back and looking into her eyes. She nods, still sobbing, and releases me. I turn to Spitfire who is staring at the wooden floor, tracing circles with her hoof. "Mom." She jerks her head up, half-closed eyes staring at me without really seeing me. "Mom, you can't be like this anymore, alright? You have to start", I struggle to find a word, "caring." She just blinks and I sigh. "You have to take care of Prim, okay?" I wait for a moment, but she is silent. I finally lose it. "MOM! Dad is dead, okay? He's dead and gone and never coming back and you have to snap out of it!" Spitfire finally reacts. Her head jerks back as if I've slapped her and she glares at me. "I hope Bread Boy wins", she says before grabbing Prim by the tail and dragging her out of the room. "NO! NO!" she screams, hooves trying to get purchase. The Peacekeepers open the door and help my mom get her out. I stumble backwards in shock, tripping over my own hooves and slamming my butt onto the cruel wood planks below. "Owwie", I mutter and immediately regret the childish word. Gale Force pokes his head in, looking eerily like my mother with his apathetic expression. He sees me sitting in the middle of the floor, tears welling in my eyes, sighs and trots over to me. He plunks himself down beside me, letting me lean into him. "You okay?" "Yes, Gale", I reply sarcastically. "I'm about to fight to the death and my mother just told me she wants somebody else to win", I say, fighting back tears again. Gale looks at me, blinks, and gives me a small smile. "Owwie", he says, gently tapping my heart with one of his hooves. Instantly I feel better. I smile and stand up again, suddenly confident in my abilities. I will win. For Prim. For Gale. Maybe even a little bit for Spitfire. For mom. Gale's time with me is over far too soon. He gives me one last wink before striding out of the room and I can't help but think that this could be the last I ever see of him. But I can't afford to cry now. The cameras might pick it up. ___________________________________________________ Bread Boy and I are met by Rarity outside of our rooms. Bread Boy's eyes are as clear as mine, and I wonder if he even had anypony to say goodbye to. The little I'd heard his mom say to him all those years ago hadn't exactly been tender-hearted and loving. Rarity escorts us onto a train, babbling on about how fast we're going and where we're going, even though neither of us are listening. I am too annoyed with her to care, and Bread Boy is just looking out of the windows. It's not much of a view, really, just a green blur of trees. I wander over to a white sofa and plop down, throwing my hooves up onto a small coffee table, inwardly chuckling at Rarity's disgusted glare. "Manners", she mumbles, sitting down at a long table. Soon the table is covered with food, brought in by white ponies with black manes and red dresses trimmed in gold. They leave as soon as their jobs are done and the three of us are left alone again. Both Bread Boy and I sit down as far away from each other and Rarity as we can get and begin to stuff our faces with all the glorious food. There's bread, cake, fruit, vegetables, hay fries, daisy sandwhiches, and so much more. I can barely finish one thing before setting my sights on something else I want to try, so I just try everything. Bread Boy shovels food up with his hooves, scooping it into his mouth and trying to hide his grin every time Rarity winces. Which she does a lot of, actually. By the time we are finally too full to squeeze even one last morsel into our mouths I'm pretty sure she has developed a permanent twitch. "So", I begin, mouth still full, "where's Big Macintosh? He's supposed to help us, right?" Rarity stands, pushing back from the table and sitting down in a chair away from us. "He'll be here shortly, I'm sure. Until then, darlings, we can watch the reapings from the other districts", she says, turning on a large projection screen that I hadn't noticed before. Both Bread Boy and I stay seated at the table while the reapings are replayed for everypony to see. Only a couple of the tributes actually stick in my mind. One is a bright ginger mare with a dark brown mane. She looks wily and her face reminds me of a fox. Another is a large black colt with blazing red spiked mane and tail. His snout is pointed and his face seems to be permanently set in a scowl. Another brown colt with dark red mane and tail steps forwards as well. His eyes rotate oddly in their sockets and his mother, a gray pony with light yellow mane and tail, bubbly cutie mark, and ditzy eyes, sits crying in the audience. The worst is a small unicorn filly, twelve years old. She is dark brown with a crimson mane and tail and she reminds me so much of Prim I want to cry, but I don't. Then it's me, wild-eyed and crazy as I volunteer to take my sister's place. Bread Boy's name is called, we're led off, and the screen goes dark. We sit in silence for a moment before I repeat my earlier question. "So....Big Macintosh?" Rarity sighed. "Ah, yes, the drunkard. Your mentor." "He does get drunk a lot, doesn't he?" Bread Boy remarks with a small chuckle. I nod. "Yes, every year." "Every day." "Every hour." "Every second." We start laughing before Rarity joins in, shrill and high-pitched. "Yes, and just think. He decides if you live or die! Isn't that just the funniest thing you've ever heard? You walk a thin line, and he can push you over one way or another, deciding whether you revel in riches and fame or burn in the flames of hell! Ha, ha, ha!" At that moment, Big Mac stumbles into the room, a bottle of Applejack Daniels clutched in one hoof. He drops it and pitches forwards, landing in a big puddle of the alcohol. Rarity smirks at us, hopping over his fallen body. "Had good luck with those odds lately?" Then she walked away.
ExpositionBread Boy and I glance at each other wearily, because Rarity has a point. The odds have not been kind of late and Big Macintosh is pretty much our lifeline. Without saying a word, we help Big Mac to his hooves. "Trippy", he says before passing out and leaning his entire weight on me. "Going down", I say, before toppling under the crushing stallion. I push vainly at him, trying to heave him off me, but some of his vomit starts to trickle down, dripping onto me. "Oh, God, it got in my mouth!" I shout, then instantly spit it out. Bread Boy, who has leaned down to help me, takes it in the face and stumbles backwards. "Grossgrossgross!" he squeals. He wipes it off quickly, scraping his hoof on the carpet vigorously. After a much longer struggle and more vomit-y grossness, we manage to get Big Mac to a bathroom where we rinse him with running water and dry him off. Well, at least, Bread Boy does. I manage to beg off on the grounds that I am a mare, and Big Mac is not. I head off to my own room as Bread Boy scrubs at Big Mac's chest, trying to wash him off. I thank my not-so-lucky stars that he's kind enough to do this by himself, and stop short. He's kind. Very kind. I wonder if his cutie mark has something to do with kindness, so I turn and look. Nope. It's just a steaming loaf of bread. He catches me staring at his flank and winks at me. My face flushes red, giving him the totally wrong impression that I was checking him out. "No. No, I wasn-...oh, forget it!" I stamp my hoof and stomp out of the room, cursing my pale yellow coat. If I looked like Big Macintosh, that wouldn't have been a problem. Then I think of Big Mac swimming in his own puke with Bread Boy's hooves all over him and I'm glad I'm me again. The train stops a few minutes later and I look outside the window. My eyes are instantly drawn to a small patch of dandelions and a flood of images pierce my mind. I toss a dandelion into a bucket already full of them. Prim smiles at me, then picks up the bucket, nearly banging it against her knees. "Slow down there, little duck", I say, taking it from her. "What else?" she asks, leaping ahead. I head into the woods on my own for the first time, looking through the woods for our next meal. I am lucky and I manage to find green beans and wild strawberries, which I bring home for a salad. Soarin and I are foraging together and he points out a tall plant with three white blossoms. "Hey, look, Fire Mare. This plant is called katniss. It is edible", he says, taking a big bite out of one of the leaves. My mother bustled around the house, taking care of Prim and even singing. My sister danced around her, but I was mostly uncomfortable. I come back to myself as we pass another district, but I am not sure which one. What do they think of me, District 12's very first volunteer? They probably just think I'm stupid. I notice the sky is lighter now. Rarity hops past my room. She says, "Get up or I'll be forced to send Big Mac in to kiss you awake!" I think she suffers permanent brain damage because of how fast I cannon into her, screaming about how awake I am. Bread Boy and Big Mac meet as at the table. Big Mac does nothing but drink whiskey as Bread Boy and I tear into the food. Rarity picks at her food, not eating much. I hope she starves. About halfway through the meal, I ask Big Mac if he has any advice. "Stay alive", he suggests through a mouthful of waffles. Bread Boy chokes on his roll, glaring at Big Mac. He reaches out and knocks his glass of alcohol over. He gets kicked in the jaw for that. Spotting a knife nearby, I grab it in my jaws and slam it into the table near Big Mac. Rarity's head whips around, eyes fixed on me. "That is mahogany", she shouts. "Fighters, are ya?" Big Mac asks, eying us with what I think is pride. "Real advice. Let me stay drunk. Deal with the stylists." Then he falls silent and turns back to his whiskey. I think both Bread Boy and I realize that is all we're going to get.
