"Kurt! Kurt! Up! Up!" The little voice called, causing the eighteen year old boy to groan, rolling over in his small bed. The dull, old doorknob jiggled lightly, and the door creaked open, the small boy rushing in and jumping on his brother.

"Ouff!" Kurt groaned, rolling onto his back and looking down at the small, wild haired boy. "I'm up! I'm up!" He said, unable to hold back his smile as the eleven-year-old slid off of the bed.

"Dad says we have to go work in the fields today.." The younger sighed, looking at Kurt as he sat up. He looked over at the cheap clock on his nightstand and out of the window. Still dark. They had some time.

"Alright Taree, let's go.." Kurt sighed, stretching as he stood. They only had about an hour to get there before the peacekeepers did and they checked who was present.

They walked through the small shack of a home, seeing their father at the old table. "Morning Kurt..Taree." Burt smiled, looking at his sons as Kurt opened the rickety cabinet and grabbed the last, stale roll of bread they had.

"Morning Dad." Kurt smiled, wrapping the crescent roll, dotted with seeds in a piece of burlap and putting in in Taree's sack. The rolls were District 11's specialty, and they cost a good bit. But when you could afford them, they were a treat. Kurt was lucky enough to be friends with the baker's daughter, Rachel, who would bring them the stale rolls when no one would buy.

This was particularly nice of Rachel, considering that her family, along with the rest of District 11, was in the same financial situation. Dirt poor, and only receiving enough food from the Capitol to stay alive for the harvest. At least they weren't as bad off as District 12, which was rumored to have people simply fall over and die from starvation.

Of course it had been harder than usual lately, due to the fact that Kurt's father was starting to have heart problems and couldn't work. The district's nearest healer was kind enough to give him some medicinal herbs to keep it under control for free in exchange for Kurt doing odd jobs, gathering and such.

The people in the district were also very close to Burt and his late wife Elizabeth, who was also a healer. They would bring him what they could. Which wasn't much, but it was still kind of them. Small gooslings that would fly close enough over the district to get shot down by the skilled eye of an archer, or a scavenging rabbit from the fields quickly captured and hidden from the peacekeepers by a field worker. Meat was only on occasion nevertheless.

Kurt learned a lot from his mother, but had no way to get the supplies or herbs he needed. At least not with working in the fields from sunup to sunset. But at least he knew how to use what the healer sent.

He set a pot of water on the old stove turning it on high and grabbing some hawthorn blossoms from the cabinet while he waited for the water to boil.

"I want you to drink this..." Kurt instructed, dumping a few of the white flowers into the bubbling liquid.

Burt sighed. He appreciated that his son worked hard to keep him well, but he detested the taste of the home remedies.
"I will.." he assured.

Kurt let the blossoms steep a bit longer before pouring the liquid into a chipped mug and handing it to his father. "We'll see you tonight." Kurt smiled, hugging his father tightly before leading Taree outside into the darkness of the morning.

"Tomorrow's the day, huh Kurt?" Taree asked, looking up at his brother with innocent green eyes. "Tomorrow's Reaping Day?"

Kurt sighed deeply, looking down at his brother who was kicking at a small rock as they trotted along the dusty road to the fields.
"Yeah..But you don't have to worry about that pup..You're only eleven." Kurt assured.

"But what about you?" Taree asked quietly.

Kurt swallowed hard. Your name was placed into the reaping bowl to be drawn. A boy and a girl were chosen for the hunger games each year from the day you were twelve to eighteen. Twenty-four were chosen. Two from each district. They would all go in, fight to the death, and only one could be the victor. This was his final year, but his name was in the bowl a great deal over forty times as a result of trading water, grain, and oil with the Capitol for having his name put into the bowl more times. But there were thousands of elligable young men in District 11. His chances of being chosen were slim.

"I'm not going anywhere. It's my last year. They won't choose me." Kurt said, flashing a reassuring smile at his little brother, making the small boy smile back.

"You promise?" He asked, holding out his pinkie.

"I promise.." Kurt smiled , linking pinkies with Taree.

They made it to the fields just before the peacekeepers do, and go to check in.
"Kurt Hummel and Taree Hummel." Kurt said to the peacekeeper, clad in white and holding a holographic tablet. He types in their names and tells them that they've been moved to working in the orchards today and that a peacekeeper would escort them there.

Kurt nods as a look of dread washes over Taree's face. Kurt knew the young boy detested working in the orchards. He was small and agile so he was made to climb up the trees and pick the fruit despite his fear of heights.

The peacekeeper walked them to the nearest orchard, Taree's little hand trembling as it clutched to his brother's. Kurt hated having to put his brother through this, but going against the peacekeepers instructions was open defiance, which led to a public whipping. Something Kurt had to endure more than once due to his unbreakable spirit. He was strong. But he didn't want Taree to have to go through that pain and humiliation. It would break him.

They walked to the orchards and they saw Finn and Rachel were there as well. Rachel, small for her age, was lifted into the trees. Finn was tall enough to reach most of the fruit. They walked over, Taree keeping his grip on Kurt's hand.

"Hey Kurt. Hey Taree." Rachel grinned, her unusually bubbly self as always.

"H-hi Rachel.." Taree said timidly as the other workers readied their supplies. Kurt kneeled in front of his brother, taking his hands and looking up at him.

"You're gonna be alright okay? Don't look down if you don't have to..Rachel will be up there with you, look to her when you get scared..You remember that song I taught you? The one to sing to the mockingjays so I know you're okay?" Kurt asked softly as Taree nodded. "Sing it for me.."

Taree took a small breath, before singing out the three noted tune in a smooth, sweet voice.
"Black bird fly.."

"Good.." Kurt breathed out, kissing the boy's forehead. "Sing that to the mockingjays, they'll sing it back and I'll hear it all day to know you're fine.."

"Okay Kurt.." Taree said softly.

"And I put some leaves in your pack..Just in case of tracker jackers.." Kurt said, hoping his brother didn't have a run-in with the poisonous golden wasps and their hallucinogenic stings. "Also I put some bread in there for you.."

"But what about you? Won't you get hungry?" Taree asked softly, reaching into the pack to grab the bread, but Kurt's gentle hand stopped him.
"I'll be okay. You need all your strength." the older said softly. Taree nodded again and Kurt kissed his forehead once more. "Go on pup. I'll take you to get some berries tonight before curfew.." He smiled. The young boy trotted off with the others and Kurt turned to rachel.
"Watch him..Okay?"

Rachel nodded, giving a smile."You tell me to each time we come out here and I always do.."

Kurt chuckled softly. "Thank you.."

The work day was long and hard. The sun was hot that day and it beat down on Kurt like a giant golden hammer as he carried the large weaved baskets of apples from the orchard to the hovercrafts.

Hour upon hour of the repetitive tedious work was enough to drive anyone mad. But Kurt was used to it. As were many of the other District 11 residents. He heard Taree's song to the mockingjays periodically through the day, easing his fear for the safety of his brother. Who was jumping swiftly from tree to tree.

The sun was low in the sky when the young girl gave her call to the mockingjays, signaling the end of the workday. Kurt unloaded the last basket onto the hovercraft and groaned, wiping the sweat from his weary brow. He said goodbye to Finn and Rachel before walking to the trees and saw Taree walking up to him, cheeks pink from sunburn.

"Hey pup.." Kurt said, smiling at his brother. "How about those berries?"

They walked home together, stopping along the way to gather the berries for supper. When they heard the announcement for curfew, they hurried home, and Kurt made a delicious stew with the berries. A wonderful treat for the family that night. Kurt sang Taree to sleep before retiring to his own room and collapsing in the bed.

Tomorrow was Reaping day..The day where the tributes for the hunger games would be chosen. He couldn't be chosen. He had to be here for Taree and his father. The odds were improbable. He couldn't possibly be chosen.

Hours passed and sleep wouldn't claim him. Kurt reached under his bed, pulling out the glossy pages of the Capitol magazines he got from trading with smugglers in the hob.

They were fashion magazines and they always ignited a sense of wonder in the young man. The colors and makeup. The amazing clothing. Faux flames and water that appeared to make the wearer appear to be ablaze, or have their hair and clothes float as if they were drifting gracefully through the sea.

Most people in the districts despised those in the Capitol. The way they were able to live their cushy lives while those in the districts suffered the fate of starvation, filth and a yearly reaping. How they viewed the hunger games as entertainment while the rest of them watched to see if their child would live to fight and struggle another day.

Kurt resented the Capitol for those same reasons..But oh, the couture, the men's fashions, just as colorful and extravagant as the women's. How Kurt wished he could wear the beautiful garments. Just once. More than anything, he wished to design them.

He had stacks upon stacks of drawings. Charcoal sketches of dresses and suits and headpieces. They were all stuffed into a wooden box and hidden beneath his bed. One day he wished he could see just one of his drawings come to life.

But this would never happen. Not for a poor boy in the districts of Panem. He sighed, slipping the magazines under the bed and trying to fall into the comforting arms of sleep.

The next morning Kurt was up early. He walked into the kitchen and saw the bread he gave Taree the day before sitting on the table, wrapped in the cloth and topped with a small note.
"My gift to you on reaping day. Happy Hunger Games." It read in Taree's childlike scrawl. He smiled, picking up the bread and stuffing it into his bag. His brother was too good to him.

He pulled on his boots and decided to go gather a bit. Stock up on food while everyone, including the peacekeepers was indoors. The reaping wasn't until two pm, and that gave Kurt time to get a few things before returning it to his family. Maybe if he found some wild strawberries they could enjoy them for breakfast.

Kurt carefully snuck by the fence. It was thirty feet high, metal plates underground to prevent digging underneath and guard towers were strewn about it, facing the district. The lithe boy scurried into the bush, near a place where he knew the fence wasn't electrified.

He waited for a bit, making sure the normally empty guard tower was in that condition today before quickly and gracefully slipping between the wires and slinking into the woods, unseen. The tall young man walked silently, whistling to the mockingjays and smiling to himself as they would repeat his songs.

Kurt gathered a few berries and roots, happy with his find before noticing the sun was starting to get high in the sky. He started to turn back when he heard a cry of pain. He turned, quickly pulling out his knife and staring into the direction of the noise. There was the sound of scuffling leaves, another cry and the sound of a rope snapping tight.

Kurt carefully advanced towards the sound, knife in hand. He peeked out of the bushes and saw a young man, hanging from a tree by his ankle and struggling to reach the rope to untie it. There was two large reddish-purple welts on him, one on his neck and the other on his forearm, that Kurt recognized as tracker jacker stings. Kurt carefully stepped out, looking up at him before the dark haired boy swung around, still hanging by his ankle.

"Hey! You!" he said as if he'd seen someone he knew his whole life. "Will you-"

"Shut up!" Kurt hissed. "Do you want the peacekeepers to hear you?"

"Help?..Please?" The boy asked, his curls hanging down as he swung side to side. The poison was starting to take effect. Kurt could tell by the way his eyes went wide before he shook his head, his words starting to slur.

Kurt had to act fast. He quickly scaled the tree, knife in his teeth before tiptoeing out on the limb and reaching down to cut the rope. Someone else must've discovered the hole in the fence and used this area for hunting. But who was this? Kurt sure as hell didn't recognize him.

The boy fell with a thud and a loud "oof!" sound. Kurt quickly and smoothly slid off of the tree. Reaching into the pack and pulling out some leaves.

He put a handful into his mouth and chewed them before walking over to the poisoned boy, kneeling and rolling him onto his back. He carefully removed the barbed stingers from the welts before pulling the glob of damp leaves out of his mouth and pressing them to the sting. The tanned boy moaned as the relief washed over him and the leaves drew out the poison and reduced the size of the swollen lump.

Kurt did the same for the other and waited for a minute as the boy came to. He was tan, with short black curls and thick brows. He had a strong jaw, and muscles. He looked well fed. He couldn't be from this district..

Kurt brought his head up and rested it on his lap as he dug in his bag for his water bottle, splashing a bit of the cool liquid on the strange boy's face. He sputtered before his eyes shot open, revealing the most brilliant honey color Kurt had ever seen.

"Are you an angel?.." he asked.

"Ugh." Kurt groaned, pushing him off of his lap and standing.

"Ow!" The boy exclaimed, but chuckling a bit as he sat up. "You saved me.." He said, giving a wide, goofy grin.

"What was I supposed to do? You would've died up there and the last thing I need is a reason for wild dogs to come this way." Kurt scoffed. "Is this trap yours?"

"Yeah." The curly haired boy said, still grinning.

"You got caught in your own trap?"

"At least I know it's working!"

Seriously? What kind of hunter was proud of being caught in his own trap? Kurt just stared at the strange young man incredulously as he gathered his bow and quiver of arrows that had fallen upon his capture.

"I was setting this up and..Got too close to a tracker jacker nest..Pissed a couple of them off I guess.." He said, pointing to the now red patch of skin on his neck and feeling around. "Whoa! It's gone! H-how'd you do that?"

"Leaves.." Kurt said, raising an eyebrow. This was common knowledge in District 11. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm Blaine!" He grinned holding out his hand to Kurt and Kurt stared at it as if it was a strange new plant he'd never seen.

"Can I ask where you're from?" Kurt asked as Blaine slowly lowered his hand, Kurt obviously not interested in shaking it.

"District twelve." He said as if he were saying the weather was nice.

"D-District twelve?!" Kurt gasped. "Do you know where you are?"

"Um..No actually..I was just hunting..Lost track of time..And distance I guess.." Blaine said, looking around as he scratched the back of his neck.

"You're near District eleven! I wouldn't be surprised if the peacekeepers are searching for you right now!" Kurt snapped. "And the reaping is in five hours!"

Blaine just looked at Kurt with wide eyes before thanking him, spinning on his heel and running off into the woods.

Kurt stood there, staring at the place Blaine once stood, feeling like he was in shock. What just happened? A boy from District 12? He shook his head before starting to turn back when a glint caught his eye.

He bent down, picking up a small golden pin. It had a songbird perched on an arrow, all melded to a golden ring. Blaine must've dropped it. Kurt stuffed it in his pocket, thinking he might be able to get a good price for it at the hob, maybe another magazine.

When Kurt returned home, he saw his reaping outfit laid out on his bed for him. A simple powder blue button up, khaki dress pants and some black shoes. He went to the kitchen and boiled some water before scrubbing himself clean, fixing his hair in a coiffe and starting to carefully put on the clothes.

He walked out once he was dressed, looking at his father and Taree who looked back at him. His father stood, pulling him into a long hug, sniffing a bit as he pulled away.

"I'm coming back.." Kurt assured his father, who nodded, trying to stop the tears from filling his eyes.

"C'mere pup.." Kurt smiled at Taree, who was on the verge of tears as well. He ran over to his brother who scooped him into his arms, hugging him tightly as the younger boys. "Sshh..No tears.," Kurt soothed.

"Don't go Kurt..Please.." Taree sniffed.

"I have to..But I'll be home right after, remember? I promised.." Kurt said softly as he set Taree down. Taree nodded, grabbing Kurt's hand as they started walking to the square.

Kurt went through the familiar motions. Getting in line, pricking his finger, and waiting in the square while the District officials walked onstage.

Kurt sighed as they played the anthem and then a fanfare played as Rina Specktree walked onstage. Kurt couldn't help but admire her appearance. Long fire engine red hair, curled up in victory rolls and pale white makeup. Thick false feathered eyelashes and black lipstick in the shape of a small heart on the purse of her lips. She had on a particularly geometric outfit this year, black white and red cube skirt and a corset, angled to look like a triangle. Her tall, black pointed heels clacking across the stage.

"Happy Hunger Games!" She said in her high pitched voice, grinning widely. Her Capitol accent ringing across the silent square. "Now as you know, the hunger games are a yearly tradition, in which we..." She started on her speech about the Hunger games and the history of Panem.

"Sein Fargrowth will be the mentor for this year's games!" Rina announced, clapping her dainty, gloved hands as a large, dark skinned man walked out, waving before sitting down.

"Now without further ado, let's announce our tributes.." Rina giggled as the brought out two large glass bowls, filled with sheets of paper.
"Ladies first.." She smiled, reaching into the bowl and pulling out a slip and opening it.

"Quinn Fabray!"

The crowd went silent and all eyes shifted to a young blonde girl, no more than seventeen. She had a look of panic in her eye, but quickly hid it as she, very slowly, made her way to the stage. Her mother's sobbing could be heard from a distance as her family looked on.

Kurt knew her. They usually worked in the same field and she was friends with Rachel. They had spoken on occasion.

"And now for the boys!" Rina smiled, reaching into the bowl and stirring it around a bit. She slowly pulled out the paper, looking out around the crowd before opening it.

"Kurt Hummel!"